It’s official – this is a particularly rainy year in California and I am slightly giddy about it. The map from the blogspot of the mighty Aaron Justus, meteorologist and brewer extraordinaire, shows most areas getting rainfall well above 100% of the average. The purple patches show the heaviest levels above the norm, although all this is tame compared to Aaron’s video of being in situ for Hurricane Earl .
I already think of him as Sir Aaron because anybody who is both obsessed by the weather and works in the brewing industry, particularly right here in San Diego, deserves to be adopted by the British and knighted. It’s a combination of interests that’s a bit like finding out that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person. He deserves recognition for his selfless dedication to two liquids that have been pivotal in shaping the modern world.
I have also become slightly obsessed by Aaron’s web-site with its multi-coloured maps, radar loops, satellite images and chatty exchanges with readers. Any site that has all that, talks about el nino and la nina with casual authority and posts a webcam ‘looking west from the Black Mountain’ gets my recommendation. And that’s before you get to his beer videos like the spooky ‘open fermentation’ special where the vessels truly runneth over.
While Gladys Knight raised the prospect of ‘a rainy night in Georgia’ it was Albert Hammond who immortalised southern California’s reputation for drought. He took it a little far when he said it never rains in California but more importantly the next line, ‘it pours’, was on the money. As an aficionado of Belfast drenchings and Manchester soakings I have been mightily impressed by the Golden State’s ability to mount a storm of decent ferocity.
The rain has given me a whole new perspective on life as an expat Brit in a land where sunshine is the norm. I wield an umbrella with appropriate flourishes, throw scorn at the drivers who slow to a crawl at the first drop on their windscreen, and smile at the astonishment of locals as I walk in light drizzle without a coat. I take Uber rides specifically so that I can give the captive driver a monologue about how the rain is all well and good but that it was the UK drought of ’76 that was most formative in my teenage years.
I am slightly troubled, however, that if this goes on long enough I may exhaust my supply of rain references. I’d guess that the English have at least as many descriptors for rain as the family of languages including Inuit and Yupik have for snow. Whether it’s ‘spitting’, ‘spotting’, ‘chucking it down’ or ‘coming down stair rods’ it’s an idiomatic pick ‘n’ mix of great cultural richness. I haven’t tried popularising esta lloviendo gatos y perros but the time will come when I will have to use my fledgling Spanish to best effect.
My fall-back position will be a childhood chorus including ‘incy wincy spider’, ‘rain rain go away’ and ‘old man is snoring’ – all with actions if I’m in the mood. And I feel the growing inevitably of a mix tape with old favourites by Status Quo, Barbra Streisand and Tina Turner. Perhaps I’ll even take issue with Paul Simon’s statement that ‘a good day ain’t got no rain, a bad day’s when I lie in bed and think of things that might have been.’
As usual I have bumped into the language barrier while discussing the opportunities arising from excess water in a semi-desert landscape. Like any responsible citizen I have been discussing how to harvest the rain in order to use it later in the year. But it became clear that my references to buying a water butt were being met with looks that ranged from bemused to mildly scandalized.
Apparently, they refer to them as rain barrels in the US. But I contest that description on the grounds that rain is what comes out of the sky and once it is settled it becomes something else – a puddle, a stream, a pond or just water. Unfortunately, the etymology of ‘butt’ and ‘barrel’ makes it difficult to separate them so I have asserted my usage with the standard – ‘whose language is it anyway?’.
My research on the subject took me to the internet and leads to me sharing some good advice with any sensitive readers interested in this subject. The search term ‘butt etymology’ should be avoided at all costs. The worldwide web is a wondrous thing and to be treasured but it can lead down some very dubious roads.
The other wondrous thing about the past few weeks has been a morning temperature that allows that delightfully childish game of breathing out smoke into the cold air. It has been as low as 42degrees farhenheit (5 celsius for European readers) recently. Not quite record-breaking but has led to a set of ‘frost warnings’ in other parts of the State.
It’s almost like being back in the UK with the only difference being that I probably have 260 days of sunshine to look forward to.
