Last night it rained considerably and I listened at various times throughout the night as the rain came pouring down in torrents. I woke up on two or three occasions wondering if my tent was going to get flooded. Water puddles formed on the floor of the tent. I heard drips coming down in various places.
However, I miraculously weathered the whole night without getting the slightest bit wet, and the hard rain coming down off and on throughout the night actually lulled me into a deep and restful sleep. 
Late morning the sun came out and I opened up the tent as much as I could to let it dry. 
In California near San Jose, it rains so rarely. It is officially desert area--dry, and sunny 254 days of the year. In Iowa where I grew up, it could rain for the better part of a week come April and May. And we had more than one word for it: it's sprinkling, its misting, it's drizzling, it's spitting, it's hailing, it's pouring, it's raining cats and dogs. Sometimes we'd get a steady downpour that lasted all day long. Other times we'd get scattered and occasional showers--scattered across the state, with brief bouts of rain throughout the day.
So last night with the intermittent downpours and drizzles, and lulls, it felt like Iowa in California. And I found out the rain made the walking path at the campground wet and the mushrooms on the log that I saw last week, double in number. As I learned at a mushroom festival I attended once in Santa Cruz, there are hundreds of variety of fungi, and their shapes can be beautiful, funny, and entertaining.
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