Rain, Rain--Where the Hell are you?

Another beautiful weekend here in the Northern California rain forest and the natives are, again, getting somewhat nervous. At left you see a portrait of what it usually looks like around here, taken on Highway 299. Looks lovely, cozy, somewhat stern but also starkly beautiful. This is the scene that makes the locals happy. This fog means that our native redwoods--who were here even before the Hoopa and Yurok--are having a nice drink and saying "AAAAAhhh.'

But this winter the rains have been scarce. Oh, there was that two week period in which we almost got all of our allotment of yearly rain; we were heartily sick of the rain then, I'll tell you, and the redwoods were even saying, "Dude. Enough." But other than a few overnight drizzles, we haven't really gotten a good soaking for a while.

Well, now the forecast is for a good hard cold winter storm lasting up to a week. Wouldn't you know, that comes just as I emerge from my winter hibernation and prepare for the first gig of the year at Plaza Design on Saturday night's Arts Alive! (The exclamation point is part of the title.) So I can see that the heavens will open up when comes time for me to break out the white suit for a new season.

come to think of it, that happened the last time I played in January. Hmpf.

Now I'm being told that the gig might not happen at all--evidently the Plaza Design people are having trouble with their new landlords in Eureka and might have to move on Feb 29. I have a good mind to show up anyway with my battery-powered PA system and play outside. That, of course, will depend on the rain.

Last Friday night I went to Fulkerson Hall at HSU and listened to a stunning pianist, the winner of the Tchaikovsky competition this last year. The young man played a full concert and then did three encores. He was magfinicent. It inspired me to work harder on my own paltry music. Afterward he stood in the hall and people shunned him as if he were too magic to touch. So I walked up to him intending to shake his hand. An older woman beat me to it and said to him:

"I saw Van Cliburn when he was young and you are much better."

When she was done I shook his soft hands and said "I can't top that." He smiled. He's Russian, so I have no idea of whether he understood any of it.

Well. Another long week at work here, though few court appearances. I just got a fax from the opposition on a petition to terminate parental rights, and their argument is ingenious if not exactly supported in the law.

Oh well. Looks like I have a little more work cut out for me.