Is it possible to forget rain? On the way home this morning a few drops of water splashed on my windshield and I looked around for what might have splashed me. My first thought was that it was an irrigation system. Turns out it was a few sprinkles, just a handful of drops. Enough to wash the dust from the hood of my car, nothing more. And then it was over.

I've lived in a non-rain environment for three years now. In that time I've seen snow maybe three times. Only on trips back east. I see rain when I used to see snow- in the winter. In San Diego the sky always looks like rain in the morning. The mist burns off by noon and then it's drop-dead gorgeous. Out here it's hot and dry, dusty. I saw rain when we moved in. I saw it again once more but then it was over for the year. I miss standing in the rain, I miss hearing the raindrops on the roof when I'm sleeping. I don't know how I'll tell my daughter what it is when it comes around again this winter. "See that, Tiff? It's rain. Water, coming down from the clouds." Maybe I'll take a page from Terry Pratchett's version of Australia. It's the Wet. Water comes down, washes the streets clean. It washes the skin clean without the smell of sulfer. It cools the air and lets the smell of new growth fill the air. Green follows after.

The Wet will come back in the winter. Soon enough.