In the Silence of the Rain

Yesterday we had rain most of the day.  It ran the gamut from wind-lashed fat drops to the most gentle pitter-patter that you very nearly didn't hear. 

Because we had business both south and north of us, we were out in it.  Richie didn't think there would be any vendors at the Friday Farmers' Market so we drove by just to see.  And what we did see was the rain-washed parking lot and two solitary, lonely-looking tents huddled side by side as if for protection from the rain.

Rather than going back to Pacific Coast Highway to go north, Richie elected to stay on residential streets to go to the supermarket.

If you don't live here and someone mentions "beach cities" and you think the houses rest on flat ground because beaches are flat ... nope.  We have a mix of flat and hilly and because it rarely rains here, the hilly drops sheets of rain down the streets to the low ground where they pool well out into the street.  The few cars that were out threw up 8 or 9 foot geysers of water as they drove through them.   The falling rain made no noise, but the "thunk" heard as cars plowed into the mini lakes was audible, if muted. 

Due to the "never rains here" situation, sewer drains get blocked with leaves, trash and what have you.  It is not remarkable to find a street with a puddle from one side to within a foot of the other caused by a blocked drain that is burbling like an old-fashioned water cooler. 

What impressed me was the quiet out there in the rain.  Traffic was sparse.  People on the sidewalks, walking their dogs or going or returning from an errand?  Non-existent. 

The rain alternately pitter-patted on the car's sunroof or stormed down with gusto.  When Richie had parked at the supermarket, a particularly heavy cell moved through - winds rocked his car (Toyota 4Runner - it is not potato-chip weight)  as the rain lashed the sparsely car'd parking lot and beat down upon the two or three people race pushing their carts to their cars. 

The windshield wipers made a comforting "thunk thunk" as we drove home. And that was it for "noise."  I love the quietness of our rare rains.