Nature vs. Nature

Winters in LA unravel in a surprised flux.  Big gray rain comes in windy, sharp flashes for an evening or a day, then the sun swoops up from the dregs and speaks its power for hours- till the sky dries from white to blue.  The other day, I came home from dinner to find a single layer of hail waiting for me atop of all raised surfaces- the hood of my neighbor’s tan SUV carpeted in cold, irregular pearls.  Made me think of January 12th, 2001, my 13th birthday & the day of my Bar Mitzvah, when it hailed like I hadn’t seen here before or since.  I remember the news reports that afternoon- camera crews at my middle school filming tiny, slumped, smiling attempts at hailmen, then filming dudes in the surrounding suburbs on snowboards getting yanked down the street by pick-up trucks from the end of a rope.
I wanted to believe it was a sign, an omen- my world telling of the heavy elements around me and above me coming to a strange fruition- but what isn’t nowadays?  I expect frogs next, just like in Magnolia.
Just like I expect edgy, caffeine addicted crows to start crowding trees and telephone wires outside of cafes until they just HAVE to have a sip.  Just like I expect the seasons to flip and mix like four eggs in a hamster ball.  Because, now, I don’t need any symbol-savvy atmospheric conditions.
The war is weird enough as it is.