Woke to one of my favorite sounds -- rain on the roof. Hard rain, the kind that puts the dogs into a coma and makes even Evinrude, Crankiest Cat in History®,
pleasant tolerant. It's enough of a rarity in this part of the world, this spring rain, that even as you pull the covers a little higher, you wonder if somewhere, a baby polar bear is going hungry. (And if you've seen "Earth", you already know the answer to that one.)
So here's a shot of Santa Monica, right as the rain rolled through. And below is our beach, the camera canted artfully to avoid the frothy greenish sludge pouring from the creek bed and into the sea. (Hmmm, Evinrude appears to have company in Cranky Town today.)
Going outside will cure that. The air is sweet and tender, the birds are going nuts, and there's a swell coming from the southwest, so lots of happy guys in wet suits are running toward the beach.