The skies are filled with the brooding thickness of a stormy morning. Rain is pounding the steel roof of my office, blurring the image of the world through the window's glass pane. The vicious flooding on the streets brings with it a renewal of much needed life-nourishing water. The growth of indigenous weeds are rising alongside green blades of new grass through the soaked lawn out front that was browning from the thirst of a drought only days before. The Siberian Husky has retreated to the safety of her dog house, and the palm tree stands tall, dripping from the onslaught of a week's worth of much needed moisture.
With the needed rain comes a destructive force, as well. Hillsides stripped of ground-cover from last season's fires are sliding downward, pouring mud onto the neighborhoods below. Creeks are flooding over, and storm drains can't seem to eliminate the water fast enough from major intersections flooded with impatient traffic carrying bodies that are desperately trying to get to work. Trees have fallen, and automobile accidents have dotted the highways. But perhaps the most destructive part of the storms is the least explored consequence of all.
Yes, California is in a drought, and the rains are much needed. But the struggling economy largely depends on the transportation of goods and new construction, one of which has been slowed and hindered, while the other has met an abrupt halt. Big rig trucks have slowed their pace to a near crawl, as well they should for safety's sake. But hungry markets must wait longer for their goods, and in an economic downturn, such conditions could mean the difference between flourishing, and closing the doors forever. Construction sites have shut down completely, eliminating the movement of goods to those locations, and leaving at home a myriad of truck drivers that are in dire need of income.
Like all other storms, however, the foreboding onslaught we are now experiencing will eventually come to an end. The rains will cease, and will be followed by a new day. The sunshine will dry the glistening world, and the new growth will remind us of the promise of new beginnings, and the hope of new opportunities. An unforgiving wind may be blowing through my community at this moment, and the night may be turning cold, but when the storms end, and a lighter silky wind calms the storm battered environment, we will not only continue on, but we will perhaps be a little wiser having weathered the storms.
-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary
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