I got it wrong.
Just a week ago, a group of of us on a local Facebook page were discussing how the infrastructure here has improved over the last decade. I had mentioned that when I moved here, the first rain would often result in power failure, but that does not happen anymore because the electricity transmission hardware has been replaced and updated.
I thought the days of temporary rain-related power outages were behind us. They are not.
About 5 this morning, I woke up to the sound of a soft rain tapping on the top of my heat chimney in the bathroom. I don't think that is what woke me up, though. It was probably the sound of thunder with flashes of lightning thrown in for effect. Maybe we were going to have our first big rain storm of the year.
Then the power went out. I knew that because the ceiling fan stopped rotating and my telephone and exercise watch started whinging like nestlings about not being fed.
The outage was brief. Maybe a minute. Maybe less. But the storm had not yet made its point. About five more outages followed the first. They were all just as brief.
So much for my lauding of the area's water-proof transmission system. One of the participants in our Facebook discussion said he certainly had no expertise in the area, but he wondered if the brine buildup on transformer might be a cause of the outages.
I certainly do not know. But I do know that the rain this morning was not the arrival of Tlaloc. I doubt it was even the arrival of one of his lesser minions. When I went outside hoping to see a thoroughly-drenched patio, I saw one little puddle. A puddle smaller than what Dora leaves behind when she waters the plants.
Mind you, I am not complaining. Even a bit of rain will help to start greening up our hills. Before the rains fall, I almost feel as if I am living in the equivalent of the Tillamook Burn.
And even though one rain drop does not a storm make, Diane Keaton lets us appreciate that nostalgia does have its uses. Even when it is just a faulty electrical system.
About 5 this morning, I woke up to the sound of a soft rain tapping on the top of my heat chimney in the bathroom. I don't think that is what woke me up, though. It was probably the sound of thunder with flashes of lightning thrown in for effect. Maybe we were going to have our first big rain storm of the year.
Then the power went out. I knew that because the ceiling fan stopped rotating and my telephone and exercise watch started whinging like nestlings about not being fed.
The outage was brief. Maybe a minute. Maybe less. But the storm had not yet made its point. About five more outages followed the first. They were all just as brief.
So much for my lauding of the area's water-proof transmission system. One of the participants in our Facebook discussion said he certainly had no expertise in the area, but he wondered if the brine buildup on transformer might be a cause of the outages.
I certainly do not know. But I do know that the rain this morning was not the arrival of Tlaloc. I doubt it was even the arrival of one of his lesser minions. When I went outside hoping to see a thoroughly-drenched patio, I saw one little puddle. A puddle smaller than what Dora leaves behind when she waters the plants.
Mind you, I am not complaining. Even a bit of rain will help to start greening up our hills. Before the rains fall, I almost feel as if I am living in the equivalent of the Tillamook Burn.
And even though one rain drop does not a storm make, Diane Keaton lets us appreciate that nostalgia does have its uses. Even when it is just a faulty electrical system.
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