Friday, February 05, 2010

Apres le deluge...

When the rains stop, we are blinded.

I had never thought of green as a "blinding" or "firey" color until I came to the Central Coast. The winter green of this area is a hot, neon green. After an afternoon of working outside, your eyes hurt and you beat yourself up for not having worn shades. You close your eyes and everything is red and still hurts. Seeing green, seeing red. Only there is no envy or anger. Only the flashy diva dance of nature.

The hills are ablaze in this blinding green light and raindrops glitter, jewels on the wire mesh of fences, dried grasses, leaves, last season's wild fennel. Into this fairy feast, a new bobcat appears, rambling up the hill to our house, and sniffs around. At first, you think it's Ellie, our resident huntress, until you see its flared cheek fur, a bit of Bozo facial hair.

Today, you miss Mick (as you have started calling the newcomer) and Toni and all the others terribly. You miss walking outside with your morning coffee and chuckling at yet another new mound of bobcat poo on your makeshift weedblock. You miss the blinding green and sparkle of the ranch, here in grey, wet West Los Angeles.

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