Trees Falling, Creeks’ Rizin’
It’s been wet out there.
Nobody is complaining.
Last week I donned the rain gear and took the pack for a refreshing tromp around the canyon. The girls braved the non- stop drenching down-pour, (a real frog-strangler as my old Dad would say), and were all happy to gather around the woodstove afterwards to dry off. And a tip of the rain bonnet to little Sarah, with her 2.65 inch clearance, who tagged along gamely even though she had to be heaved across a few creek crossings to avoid being washed away downstream.
At 4000′ elevation here in the Sierra foothills the ground is not frozen, and so the soil is still able to drink up all of this free water that is falling from the sky.
Insatiably. Still not saturated. Room for more. Despite the storms the reservoirs are still far below average levels, because all the water is soaking into the soil.
It’s okay; soil comes first.
Water is also being soaked up by dry dead vegetation, especially trunks of dead
trees. Did you know an old log, laying on the ground, can hold onto many gallons of
water all summer long? Kind of a handy natural reservoir.
There’s a 200+ year old oak tree on the edge of our property, mostly dead, but still standing, mostly, at least it was until the other night. While the girls and I were in basking by the wood stove we heard a tremendous boom/crash, like a cannon firing right outside the back door. After determining that the house, deck and roof were still intact we discovered that our Grandmother oak tree had parted with her top half. Surrendered it to gravity. A rotten spot located at a split in the main trunk had soaked up so much water that it was more sponge than tree trunk, and accordingly had failed to stay connected to the several tons of solid and saturated oak comprising the remainder of the tree. It took out our back fence, blocked the old logging road behind the house, and gave us the satisfaction of knowing that we would have plenty of oak firewood to keep us warm for several winters to come. And definitely made noise. We were all thankful for the timing of the crash, which was a good two hours after the girls and I had passed along the road under the tree. Two hours is nothing to a centuries old oak tree, but to me it was the best two hours in my life!
And so because an oak tree stayed 75 feet above the earth for an extra 2 hours, today I am tromping around Jenkinson Lake to inspect the latest of Mother Nature’s handiwork, and not taking anything for granted.
Lake levels are up, but you can still go down to the east end and find the old bricks for a little while longer.
Park Creek Falls is an impressive raging torrent- the faucet set to full on wide open
and the tub is filling rapidly.
Creeks rizen’.
Sun is shining.
Seize the day: go
for a walk!
The woods are reviving. Life is returning to the parched life forms in the forest behind my house. Mosses and lichens, which until a few weeks ago were dry dusty crispy brown papery flakes, are swelling up- turning plump and green, coming to life. 
They’ve had a transfusion- some fluid therapy. In California we have learned not to take water for granted, and to appreciate it for what it is- a gift from the sky. Water is the true treasure of California, more valuable than that golden yellow stuff they dig out of the ground.
Every morning I escort the dogs outside for their early morning dog business- stretching, sniffing, leg-lifting etc. Today I noticed the barely perceptible sound of dripping and gurgling. The skies have been clear for about a week, but I can hear water moving: melt-water is running off the roofs and dripping from the trees because this is the first night that the temperature has stayed above freezing- not much above freezing, but enough to turn frozen crystals of ice and snow into flowing liquid. 
Water dripping and dribbling down the gutters and down through the branches to soak into the soil, which is full of organic potential. You can smell it- a raw, fragrant, earthy perfume. Not quite the same stuff that Lucy was wearing behind her ears the other day, but close. Organic. Alive.
I love moss. It’s like green velvet. Its delicate feathery fronds weave thick soft verdant blankets in 100 rich shades of green. I remember in biology classes learning about the life cycles of moss, lichen, algae, fungus and the strange creatures known as slime molds which were neither plant nor animal, but belonged to a kingdom of life all their own. Plain old everyday moss has a life cycle as fantastic as any fantasy science fiction alien you can imagine!
But they are nothing compared to the mysterious slime molds, and wondrous hybrid lichens which incorporate both fungus and algae. Although they seem like aliens to us, they are not. They are more Earthen than us hominids, arrogant, near-sighted mega-faunal creatures that we are!
It’s rising from the dust and ash. Don’t wait until Easter to celebrate the victory of Life over Death- it’s going on all around us right now; go take a walk, see for yourself!
