Rain in LA is lovely. And always long overdue.
All of our colors are saturated. The sharp blue sky flirts with the dancing greens of the happily quenched leaves, thirsty for so long. Smog, dust blown to bay for a brief respite. The coast is clear for miles.
The sleepy grey green mountains born anew. Flowers awaken, remember how to bloom.
I used to be frustrated in the winter when I lived in St. Louis and miles away my mom or brothers would exalt at any sign of rainfall. "You should be grateful for the sunshine! I'm dying in the cold." I guess I had forgotten the beauty that unfolds in response to each infrequent shower.
(here)
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