In the end, it rained on the parade. The stands were half-empty. Stephanie Edwards sat nearly alone under an umbrella in a red poncho but still soaking wet as she reported from the deserted sidelines. The grass-skirt-clad high school girls from Hawaii wore tennis shoes. The B52 bombers did not fly. (In a particularly tacky moment, I thought that apparently it is a good thing we are at war in desert countries). One of the floats lost its floral covering along the lapel of the suit on the sculpted character but that appeared to be the only damage, suggesting that the volunteers that had worked that section had hurried and skimped on the glue application.
It was a reminder of what a difficult year it has been. We lost a city to Hurricane Katrina, we have the recordsetting Tropical Storm Zeta still roiling in the Atlantic, and wildfires rage through Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico. The storm that rained on the Rose Parade is causing large scale flooding up and down the state. I am watching my backyard carefully for signs of small scale flooding.
It was also a reminder that rare weather events are just that: rare. Even if it rains on the parade for another couple of years, at some point we will have another long dry stretch. It was a record setting year for hurricanes but who among you expected to never have a record setting year? Was there some indication that those years in the 1930s had to remain the worst ever forever? The wildfires across the plains are matched by the wildfires in California in 2001.
The sun is starting to peek through now. Some time in the night, the patio doors blew open. A bird must have flown in and met with one of the cats because there is no other explanation for the dead bird I had to clean up three rooms away. We will see what else awaits in 2006.
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