Atmospheric River

[1]

 

Psalm 135:7 Good News Translation

⁷ He brings storm clouds from the ends of the earth;
    he makes lightning for the storms,
    and he brings out the wind from his storeroom.

 

We have had at least 12 “atmospheric rivers” go through Riverside this rainy season. That was a new term in my book this year. This is certainly unusual for us desert rats. Almost weekly another storm has blown up across the Pacific Ocean and dumped rain on us. In towns that are built on flat ground the water can’t run off fast enough, and so it leaves floods.

 Here is a picture of the little town (about 3,000 people) of Pajaro, California, shows the flood they experienced. Or if it is at sufficient altitude, it leaves piles of snow, like it has in Mammoth Lakes, California.

 Mammoth, California  [3]

Pajaro, California [2]  

We are in hilly country, so the excess water runs away as fast as it comes down from the skies.

Sylvia said to me the other day in serious concern, “Our swimming pool is running over.”

“Isn’t that marvelous?” I rejoiced. “And it hasn’t cost us a penny!” We haven’t had to top it up for at least three months. I usually have to add water to my swimming pool once a fortnight due to evaporation. I haven’t had to this season.

Our desert hills that surround out home are usually a very dry brown color. However, rains came early—the hills were green for Thanksgiving last November. They are still a beautiful green. Two slopes in front of our house are orange from the California poppies growing wild on them. Almost every day we take Katie on an hour walk through the hills. She loves the freedom to run anywhere without a leash

Yesterday we counted over 40 different kinds of wildflowers that were blooming along the walk. We also saw our first rattlesnake of the season coiled up in a niche in the rock to absorb the spring sunshine and escape the chill breeze. So now we will all have to keep our eyes open to more than flowers for the rest of the spring.

Thank You, Lord, for making our desert blossom like a rose[4], and for keeping us safe from the snares that Satan puts in our way.

 

 

 

 

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[1] https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--orBwvbC6--/c_fill,fl_progressive,g_center,h_900,q_80,w_1600/iyjxqzqds5mjsoxc6yuw.jpg

[2] https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/mar/13/california-weather-atmospheric-river-flooding

[3] Ibid.

[4] Isaiah 35:1 (HCSB) The wilderness and the dry land will be glad the desert will rejoice and blossom like a rose;

 

Driving Through a Tropical Storm

 

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[1]

 

Psalm 37:5 American Standard Version—margin

⁵ Roll thy way upon Jehovah;
Trust also in him, and he will bring it to pass.

 

Three weeks ago, Nancy[2] phoned us distraught. “Hospice told me that Linda will die today!” We were threading our way through the mountains and canyons of southeastern Utah. She had caught us in a spot where we actually had phone coverage. We all knew that this day was coming. Nancy’s little sister had not been eating or drinking for over a week. She wasn’t responding to anybody.

“We’re so sorry,” I said. “Please let us know when you plan a memorial service. We’ll be there,” I promised. Later the date was set for September 10.

As the date approached, I kept an eye on a Pacific hurricane called Kay. Unlike almost all of the Pacific hurricanes that tend to pass safely out to sea in the Pacific Ocean, Kay had turned and started going north. On Friday, September 9, Kay had slowed down enough to become a tropical storm but still carried strong winds and lots of rain. Since Nancy’s home is in Yuma Arizona, about 250 miles from us, we left home about noon on Friday. By this time the storm was starting to splatter our car as we drove east on I-10. It was enough to slow traffic leaving for the weekend, and for about an hour we endured the stop and go.

As we turned south to go along the coast of the Salton Sea, the sky became downright menacing. We had rolled our way upon the LORD when we started. We trusted that He would protect us we entered a terrific downpour. Suddenly my phone barked into life. “This is an alert. This region is in a severe storm area. It is in danger of flooding. You should not be driving unless you are evacuating or fleeing the flood. Take cover immediately.”  Then about five or ten miles down the road. We got another such amber alert. And later another, and another.

The rain was not as bad as when we drove through tropical storm Elsa, but it was a lot worse than we normally see in southern California. We pulled off at a truck stop about half way down the massive Coachella Valley. We had to ford a swiftly flowing river of muddy water to get into the stop. We rested about a half-an-hour there and ate a cinnamon roll. Then cautiously we drove back through this tan river and onto the highway.

We reassured ourselves in the knowledge that we were in the Lord’s hands, and we drove on carefully. So far Kay was no match to tropical storm Elsa, that we had driven through in northern Florida on July 7, 2021. The trip took us a little over 5 hours. Nancy was extremely relieved to see us. She had three friends coming from the San Diego area. They had phoned and said that Kay had washed out a stretch along I-8, and a boulder had run into a car driving along there, so they had turned around and gone back home.

Thank You, Lord, that we can trust You when the going gets dicey.

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[1] https://watchers.news/2022/09/09/tropical-storm-kay-considerable-flooding-possible-in-the-southwest-u-s/  Yuma Arizona is just a little southeast of the “o” in “San Diego” on the satellite image that was taken on the same day, September 9, 2022. We were driving through Coachella Valley to get there.

[2] As per request names have been changed, but the events are true.