The Rain in the Rainforest is mind boggling. When it starts it's a mad dash to put out every available bucket to collect water and any dirty dishes to get them washed. It falls fast and furious - no low flow here. What's even more amazing is the storm that usually accompanies the rain.
First the wind comes, usually from across the river, kicking up sand on the bank like a scene from The Mummy. In our wall-less abode, all furniture and items left out are blown out of the back of the house unless caught by the kitchen first. During the biggest storm to date Mari and Pato were home, which was comforting since trees were bending in half, I was blown over, and sticks were flying like spears. The roof was peeling back, but Pato, our shaman, stood facing the storm and ensured that no serious damage was sustained. Storm went directly overhead - simultaneous thunder and lightening. At least we didn't need to worry about anything electrical blowing up - the benefit of not having anything electrical in the house. Thinking about it I remember how scary it was.
Good news was - we were able to easily wash the floor, I was cool for a few hours, and I laughed out loud thinking of the lame weather alerts in San Francisco. "Storm Watch 2010".
With the first storm the biggest, all of the others I've weathered alone in the house have seemed relatively mild (but still enormous by CA storm standards). One morning at 4am I was woken by bright lights next to my "room" below the house. Flashlight perhaps? Nope. Lightning. Heard noises. Stomach grumbling again? Nope. Thunder in the distance but closing in. It rained over five inches in one hour - empty bucket measurement. Getting rained on in bed - truly a unique feeling. Clothes got soaked too. If you needed to dry everything and wash mud off of a lot of what you own a few times a month you would seriously "minimalize". Less is more.
Photos: The roof of the school bathroom was lost in the big storm. After the center passes and the floor has been washed there is usually a bit of time for an instant coffee and a read.
P.s. Everyone who sees my kindle gets a kick out of the "Amazon" label on the cover.
First the wind comes, usually from across the river, kicking up sand on the bank like a scene from The Mummy. In our wall-less abode, all furniture and items left out are blown out of the back of the house unless caught by the kitchen first. During the biggest storm to date Mari and Pato were home, which was comforting since trees were bending in half, I was blown over, and sticks were flying like spears. The roof was peeling back, but Pato, our shaman, stood facing the storm and ensured that no serious damage was sustained. Storm went directly overhead - simultaneous thunder and lightening. At least we didn't need to worry about anything electrical blowing up - the benefit of not having anything electrical in the house. Thinking about it I remember how scary it was.
Good news was - we were able to easily wash the floor, I was cool for a few hours, and I laughed out loud thinking of the lame weather alerts in San Francisco. "Storm Watch 2010".
With the first storm the biggest, all of the others I've weathered alone in the house have seemed relatively mild (but still enormous by CA storm standards). One morning at 4am I was woken by bright lights next to my "room" below the house. Flashlight perhaps? Nope. Lightning. Heard noises. Stomach grumbling again? Nope. Thunder in the distance but closing in. It rained over five inches in one hour - empty bucket measurement. Getting rained on in bed - truly a unique feeling. Clothes got soaked too. If you needed to dry everything and wash mud off of a lot of what you own a few times a month you would seriously "minimalize". Less is more.
Photos: The roof of the school bathroom was lost in the big storm. After the center passes and the floor has been washed there is usually a bit of time for an instant coffee and a read.
P.s. Everyone who sees my kindle gets a kick out of the "Amazon" label on the cover.
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