A river runs down my street.  Okay, maybe it’s more like a swift running creek.

When I bought this house in Dixie Canyon, I noticed there was a concrete channel in the middle of the street with water flowing.  It was clear water and upon consultation with a geologist, I learned there was a natural spring that ran through the canyon (and therefore down my street), all year ’round.

Neat, I thought — and really didn’t think more about it.

Now, as I watch the news and — ‘Storm Watch’ coverage in L.A. — watching mudslides and people being swept away in washes, I sometimes laugh.  I wonder if these people living on Waters Road, or Lake Drive, or River Road ever thought about the origin of the names of their street — or if there was a reason for it.

The latest, a two and one half million pound boulder slid down a muddy hill — it’s location, and I kid you not, the intersection of the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) and Big Rock Road.

Now, I understand a short institutional memory — but c’mon folks — you have all the information you need in your address.

All that to say, I was surprised when the bubbly little creek that runs down my street turned into a raging torrent bringing mud, sedementary rock, and large tree branches with it.  After all, nothing about a canyon brings to mind water . . . .

Then I went for a hike up the canyon and realized that the canyons must have been carved somehow.  Reading up on my new San Fernando Valley home, I’ve realized that raging winter floods have always been an issue in Los Angeles, especially in the hills.  And other than concrete river beds and dozens of damns, there really hasn’t been a concerted effort to curb development along the creeks and washes that fill up every few winters.

L.A. is a somewhat transient city and so I understand if the institutional memory isn’t that long — but I challenge those who live in an areas with names like Big Rock, and Water, and River, and Wash, and even Pacoima (translation, Wash) to count themselves surprised whent the winter water rises.

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