More rain? Say it ain't so

Wherever I go, people complain about the rain.

These aren’t the usual complaints that accompany bad weather. They’re more profound. There seems to be a deep funk setting in – the result on day after day of rain, 54.07 inches as of yesterday.

Gray. Wet. Mossy. Dreary. Wet. Green. Muddy.

Splish, splash. Slip, slop.

Spring has sprung, but the forecast through the end of the week calls for more of the same – rain, rain, rain.

Will there be more rain the week after? And the week after that? It’s not without precedent.

I usually revel in the rain. I look forward to it. The nastier, the better. I like when the weather wallops the coast so hard that I’m forced to step outside in the middle of the night and bare witness.

But this rain is more like Chinese water torture – drip, drip, drip, drip. It's not dramatic, just tedious.

Opening ceremonies for McKinleyville Little League were scheduled Saturday. I went out with a camera, and a raincoat. It was cancelled.

The coaches were trying to squeeze in a game between storms. One guy described the fields as being like mashed potatoes when you add too much milk. They seemed depressed.

As they walked out to the field to coach their teams, I drove away. Within two minutes, it was raining again and the windshield wipers were swaying from side to side.

I wonder if the weather was like this when Ulysses S. Grant was stationed at Fort Humboldt in the early 1950s?

At least noq we have electric lights, TV, radio and can move around in vehicles. I flip a switch and the house is warm.

Imagine being hunkered down in a tiny, damp, log fort with some old books you’ve already read, a couple dim candles and some moldy elk jerky?

Holy crap! Maybe I shouldn’t complain!