From the Mountains to the Sea - Nov. 12, 2007

IT’S RAINING! At least it WAS raining. I heard a clamor of heavy drops on my roof all night. That’s something to smile about this Monday morning. It is the best rainstorm we have had in months. At last we are getting some real protection from any repeat in the near future of last month’s devastating wildfires. It’s been raining all night at a steady pace that will begin to revive the parched and dying chaparral in these foothills of the Laguna Mts. The weatherman says there are more clouds from this storm coming our way from the northwest that may bring more rain later today. The satellite picture shows another large storm coming down the coast. Of course that doesn’t mean it will come this far. Storms often veer inland and head east across the continent before they reach as far south as San Diego.

Things have been quiet this weekend here at the Manzanita Horse Camp. This is a 3-day weekend, but you’d never know it at this almost empty horse camp. There were other reservations posted, but only one big horse rig showed up for camping and riding the lonesome trails. Maybe it’s been too cold and windy, except for last night when it rained and the temperature stayed in a mild 50-degree range. The wind is predicted to pick back up today, and couple that with temperatures in the low 40s will make it chilly for living outside.

Living outside is what my friends, Shirley and Bob are doing. Last week they cheerfully disposed of their possessions at a swap meet, and prepared to live by recycling cans and bottles from the beaches of San Diego. They left one dog, Sherpa, with me because she is too old and arthritic for a gypsy life, but they took Henry the beagle with them. The way Henry howls when they get out of his sight gives them no choice but take him. Just for the weekend they have their tent pitched in my yard. It doesn’t look like a very sturdy tent for rainy weather. It’s a lot colder and windier up here in the mountains than at lower elevations nearer the coast, but the county campground at a lake near the city has previous reservations that don’t leave openings for others that come later.

Maybe the weatherman is wrong, because when I went out a few minutes ago it appears to be clearing, and there is a colorful pink and blue sunrise in the east. I heard the call of a quail, so I know the flock of about 30 birds is doing its daily rounds. A large raven swooped low to look me over and spy out the land, and a flock of doves is sitting on a wire  daring each other to land and pick at the fine gravel in the road. My daughter’s rescued dogs in their kennels just stopped a chorus of frenzied barking that tells me Jake, a bold brown coyote, is lurking around hoping for a handout, or one of my cats for his breakfast. He is so tame, we wondered if he was someone’s pet that has gone back to the wild. He might be half dog like Sherpa is. Three days ago I had some scraps to give him where I feed critters out in the bushes a good long way from my compound. I called in the sweet, high pitched voice people use with cats, and darned if he didn’t appear off to my left and behind me! I kept walking and slapping my thigh the way I do for my dog when I want him to come, and Jakle followed me to the feeding place. When I moved away a little, he circled around and came slinking out of the bushes. He ate while I watched him. For a while we thought he might be the wolf-dog lost by a man who recently bought an historic ranch not far away. But he is too brown and not as big as the lost wolf-dog. At any rate, I’m going to keep my cats safe in the house for a few hours until it’s coyote siesta time at mid-day.

So that’s what is happening here as the sun and the wind are rising, and I stop writing to cook myself a big bowl of oatmeal with raisins, and watch reruns of Little House on the Prairie.