The Drought is Over

Dear Las Trampas,

Your steep hillsides are covered in luscious, saturated, beautiful carpets of green. It's a feast for the eyes. The drought is officially over. Little rivers have formed and I can hear them tumbling down the hill as I run alongside the narrow, deep ditches that are now etched into the bottom of the vertical canyons of Las Trampas. Some of the larger, older trees have fallen and whole chunks of the hillside have crumbled, revealing the extended roots of oak trees growing on the slopes. It's quiet. No wind, no breeze, just a few birds that quickly flutter away when I get too close.