Like the wild mushrooms that draw a brief reenactment each year of the far gone hippy days of the '60s,("Far out, man, I just scored a purple haze".....), waterfall season is upon us! Local legend has it that if one of the ancient ones had a bad event happen in their lives, such a a really bad day at poker, their heartfelt sadness as losing would cause them to cry. Their tears fell to the earth, breaking into particles small enough to withstand hitting it- a thing called rain. If they were really sad or had lost lots of money at poker, it would cause more tears to fall, and more rain. As the rain ran off, it would hit the ocean with such a force that waves would be crashing everywhere.
Naturally, this left the local natives a wee bit worried after they had 3 or 4 good days of rain. So after murdering a couple of innocent chickens and lots of probably pretty wild dancing, if they got lucky and made the gods happy, the next day was kinda' like this:
Unfortunately, if one didn't quite do the chicken sacrifice thingie quite right, then the wicked creature of the sea would rise up from the greatest depths of the ocean and swallow the great glowing orb in the sky, taking it off to the realm below the waves.
As darkness descended upon the land, well, I guess it was just time to do the chicken killin' thing again; then see what the next morning brings!
( For those of you still reading, it was actually just 24 hours in Northern California at the tail end of a good rain. Many new waterfalls to hunt for, and happily lots of new green things poking out of the ground.. And it only took me about 20 minutes to come up with that chicken story.............)
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