This morning was calm. The birds worked their usual favorite spots - one, a point just south of our house in Bahia de Los Angeles; the sea was slick and the breeze from the north. The village is ramping up for the Fourth of July holiday. Americans with boats and without are pulling into town as though some unseen floodgate has been opened. The small hotels are almost full; restaurant tables are filled, the boats booked well in advance. There is no permanent electricity and only an occasional phone call reaches its destination. Even then, the phones are satellite, their communications scratchy broken with waits of indeterminate length between sentences and the connectivity questionable - I guess the Internet helps as folks continue to find their way here regardless. The presence of tourists must be beneficial to the locals. And thus it continues.

We left the house, south of the village and headed to La Gringa, the northernmost point still within the bay of Angels and some 15 kilometers from our home. It was still sunny then. We stopped in the village for breakfast and continued on. By then it was nearing midday and the dirt road, while wide and graded was not an easy drive as there were no shadows which help the driver isolate rocks positioned in the roadway. The sun was shining brilliantly and the water still calm even so late in the morning.

The new La Gringa fence is still standing, albeit incomplete. A dozen or so campsites were settled there along the berm that separates the bay from the lagoon. The usual herons were present and watched us closely. We parked and fulfilled the purpose of our adventure - to get dog Dito into the water. He seems intimidated by the water near our home and yet welcomes it at La Gringa. I don't have a clue, but of course that's nothing new. We climb out of the car and find a place amongst the smooth rounded stones of the berm just above the water's edge. Dito immediately submerges himself and if we listen carefully, can hear him utter a tiny sigh at the relief from the penetrating sun dripping off his black coat. He is our wonderful beast - no burden involved, just love.

We hang for a half hour or so until the three of us are ready to go home. Mary Ann and I are longing for the half-hour ride south with air conditioning. Dog Dito is just happy to be with us. It's not difficult to tell when Dito is excited: he runs daringly forward without looking back and leaping in his exaltation of where he might be going next. He doesn't care as long as he's with us. Sweet beasts are hard to find.

We clamber back into the truck, the three of us. Dito's in the back seat and Mary Ann and I are in the front. Dito is looking for a way to belong and finds his definition of belonging by placing his muzzle between Mary Ann's and my bodies. This works for him until I shift gears striking Dito squarely on the forehead and he retreats amongst my heartfelt apologies. We're so busy with all this attention to substructure that we fail to notice the ominous clouds to the south, actually directly over our house and the houses of our friends. It was clear that significant rain was falling onto the eastern Punta Roja and environs.

Mary Ann catches her breath and manages to get out "Look at that." She's pointing to the south as I am watching the roadway. Instantly the road is illuminated even brighter than the afternoon central Baja sun. A lightening bolt has risen from earth into the heavens (or the reverse?) Life seems frozen for half an instant and then continues. The road is in front of us and I'm at the wheel and we're going slow over the nasty washboard that leads to and from La Gringa lately. And the sky is filled with major bolts of lightning that guide us home. And a rain began to fall.

It was questionable, the rain, as it was already hot and very humid for this time of year, so much so that I constantly question my friends and others as to the actual significance of global warming. We hear about it so much these days while most of us are off making ends meet I wonder where we are actually going. And just to be going somewhere: is that in itself a valid concept?

No matter. It's now - if only just for a moment - a secondary issue, the global warming deal. Major lightening bolts in front of us are emitting from or falling to earth and we're positioned in a truck that I think is indestructible but not and major flashes of white bright light are with us. Even with the sky full of heavy black clouds the lightening makes it brighter than a clear day. Somehow we arrive home amidst my wondering if we have changed our environment: is this small planet just going through its usual cycles, or have we invoked changes to Earth's patterns? If so, are these recoverable? Are they not?

We prepared for then went to bed. Lightening flashed throughout the night. Soon the thunder followed. By then we were asleep and dreaming. We each dreamed our own dreams, integrating the flashes sensed through closed eyes and the thunderous roars heard subconsciously. I awoke throughout the night, worried about the threat my mind perceives. Occasionally the entire house shakes with the lingering crashes of thunder. Then soon again I am back to my dreams.

We are where our dreams have taken us.