It Is January in May: a Jungle Is a Mile From Home

It’s January in May in the San Gabriel Mountains (Photo – Reg Green)

“It’s June in January,” Bing Crosby used to sing when I was just getting interested in the meaning of words.

By Reg Green

It seemed a trifle unlikely even to my infantile mind but in the next line Bing explained this benign climate change was not to be taken literally: he was just in love (though to a five-year old that sounded equally soppy.)

Perhaps we will not see January in June, but we certainly are seeing it in late May. Heavy rain, thick cloud and trees bent from cold winds are obvious even from the kitchen window. For those who like their pleasures outdoors, the change is befuddling. Instead of worrying about sunburn, the big question every morning is the location of my raincoat. I have seen my own boot prints in the mud from a few days before; those boot prints normally would have been long gone. but now they look as permanent as the hoofprints of Roy Rogers’ horse, Trigger, outside Grauman’s. In the local hills, one can even hear the sound of running water – in May!

The luxuriance of the vegetation

The big giveaway that this is not January is the luxuriant vegetation.  Views that would otherwise be open are now filled with bright green leaves, choked with undergrowth or wreathed in mist.  The giant cactus plants alongside the trail in the Arroyo Seco never looked so out of place with rainwater rolling off them.  On my weekend hike, I felt as though I was pushing my way through a dripping jungle—not just over a mile from my dry, warm home.

Instead of coming back from a hike with June in my heart, it is “Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head” that I cannot get out of my mind.