Blogging is hard. I am now going to write about the rain because right in front of me is a large window with water droplets on it.

At one moment, I looked out the window and all I saw was white. A wooly white fog settled in the valley, blocking out the hills. It looks cold and damp, but sitting in the journalism room, typing this blog, I am neither.

Now, the fog has disappeared. I’m not sure of the science behind it. Perhaps it was tired of hanging in the air, and it fell deeper into the valley to sit on leaves and grass. Maybe the sun came, and the fog dispersed, thinning but leaving us in a perpetual but indetectable fog.

Nonetheless, the hills are a vibrant green in the absence of the fog. Whenever it rains here in the valley, the skies turn white, and the hills take up the role of vibrancy. The dusty chaparral becomes an unreal green garden, and the clay-like earth blooms into a bright brick red.

Picture Credit: Nick Nice