After the hottest January on record, day after day of empty skies and unseasonable heat, we suddenly have weather.For two days we've had cloudbursts pounding off and on at the roof. They left two feet of standing water at my freeway exit, Cloverfield Blvd.
Three storm drains sent water pouring into the ocean, cutting through the deep sand to make mini-canyons.
It's not raining this evening, so I'm happy to run on the beach and breathe the fresh air.
I have to take a running leap over the remnants of the streams or else walk nearly to the sidewalk to get around them.
Near one of the streams is a group of people bending over the ground, either doing mouth-to-mouth on someone or starting a small fire.
It turns out to be a campfire, forbidden on this beach--amazing that I can jog here a hundred times and still see something I've never seen before.
After days of flat, calm water the waves are loud and powerful tonight.
On the way back, brilliant Venus peeks through the clouds, and I glimpse Orion's belt too. In the east the almost full moon rises.
"How can I keep from singing?" echoes in my mind from the Feb. 6 daily reading in Open Mind: Women's Daily Inspiration for Becoming Mindful by Diane Mariechild.
She quotes part of the traditional hymn:
My life goes on in endless song
above earth's lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?
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