I married a cowboy hat-wearing pick-up truck driver from the Central Valley. And James married an environmentally conscious tree-hugger from Santa Cruz. So of course this has led to many years of friendly ribbing, especially when it comes to Papa and me. Fortunately, Papa can dish it out, but he can also take it.
Now Jake and Nate have spent their entire lives hearing about the drought. They’ve barely experienced rain. They know about conserving water and native plants and Energy Stars. As coastal California kids, they’re well-versed in reusable bags and parking lots shaded by solar panels and the composting complexities of worm bins. They’ve never washed a car in the yard.
So of course they’ve heard me questioning why acres of sprinklers are running at high noon. They’ve seen me fishing tin cans out of the trash and transferring them to the recycling bin. And they’ve clearly picked-up on me cringing as Papa leaves the sink tap blasting at full capacity as he putters around the kitchen.
A few weeks ago, as we drove away from our camping trip at Lake Lopez, Nate gazed out across the immense dried-up body of water and asked in wonder, “Do you think that’s because of Papa?”
Oh I can’t wait to tell Papa about this one…