During the cloudy May Gray and June Gloom season, the haze of overcast marine layer can be kind of depressing. The insistent wall of clouds looming on the coastal horizon aren’t even heavy with promising rain, or choppy with the hope of a glimpse of the sun.
But days like today, when towering billows of thunderous gray bring ever-welcomed rain to the droughty L.A. basin, the clouds play second fiddle to the rare spots of dark moisture on dusty sidewalks and sooty cars.
Parched container plants perched on balconies greet the flighty swirls of sprinkle that flurry like snow, while the transient seek the coveted dry overhang in a deserted alley.
Weeks, even months, worth of toxic sludge and muddy trash flow in light rivulets down gutters in the street, following their designated path out to the ocean just a few blocks away.
Dedicated surfers anticipate the waves that respond to the change in weather, promising lots of power and lots of itchy rashes from the aforementioned street waste washed out into their playground.
Among all this, the cozy writer sits, nestled into a nook in a neighborhood café, warmed by hazelnut coffee from the inside, the wafting toasty flavors of the bakery comforting without, and the wide windows displaying a city lightly drizzled in cool misty rain, in preparation for the long, baking L.A. summer ahead.
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