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October 13, 2009

Of course my camera was inside, and I was transfixed outside, so I didn’t snap a picture of the prettiest sky I’ve ever seen in Los Angeles… but then my idea of a pretty sky and your idea of a pretty sky might be totally different, so maybe I just spared you a few scroll-down-seconds of boredom (this is what I am going to tell myself if you would please humour me).

The clouds had been rolling in for a few days and were getting darker and deeper. By yesterday afternoon you could feel the rain about to happen. This, in Southern California, is a magical event. It happens so rarely, and when it does, so powerfully, that even though I swore that I hated rain, I can’t help but love it here.

I woke up this morning, and went downstairs, made my tea and opened my front door, and the entire morning was purple. This purple that I’ve never seen before (now I wish I’d taken a picture), and the wind was the wind that I’ve felt on the west coast of Scotland (imagine my surprise at finding it here), carrying the sea-air and the seagulls in, swishing through the trees, scattering leaves and sounds alike, and chilling me to the bone.

I don’t know what happened to the rain. The clouds are dissipating and the mountains are still thirsty.

Maybe it’s going to the desert, which, (since I’m going every week, I know this) needs the rain even more than out here.


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