Notebook 4: Something in the wind. Mid September

I can feel autumn coming in the breeze. The past couple weeks have seen the still air come to life and with it has come a certain chilliness, especially at night. The famous fog has begun to assert itself and the clouds have grown bigger, grayer, and more numerous. A couple of times, water has even fallen from the sky. This was not rain, I am told. Rain in Humboldt County comes by the bucketful. It soaks everything it touches and lasts so long that earth and water forget their elemental enmity and every aspect of the landscape becomes an undifferentiated morass of sodden mush. At least, that was what I was told (more or less) when I settled on HSU and my academic adviser asked if I had a good raincoat. 

 

I do have a good raincoat, but so far I haven't had to use it. It's disappointing, in a way. I know it's still summer and all, but I was promised a radical change from the San Diego climate and so far it's been pretty similar (albeit a little more humid). Though most San Diegans (especially those from colder climes) love our weather, this time of year, frankly, stinks. I'm not missing the eye-searing Santa Anna winds or the skin-pinching dryness of fire season, but other symptoms of California's long drought have followed me up here. The grass in the airport field gets watered by ocean mist every morning, but it isn't enough. 

Everywhere I look the world is painted in brown and tan and olive. The tough blackberry vines have dry crinkled leaves complete with broad patches of the fungal “rust” that grows on so many plants up here. The madrones and other broad-leafs have also clearly suffered, judging by the preponderance of bare branches and desiccated leaves. Even the stalwart conifers show signs of stress. Well most seem healthy and invulnerable, here and there I see large patches of red-brown needles amid the dark greenery, a sure sign that the entire branch has died. I'm used to these dry conditions from home, but somehow, seeing the same stresses on the plants here, in the land of wet and green, makes me unspeakably sad. So, while I know I may soon regret my words, for the moment, I can't wait for the rainy season to get here.