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When California water officials assess the drought, the first place they look is the northern Sierra Nevada mountains.

Rain and snowmelt from the area feed into a complex system of rivers, canals and reservoirs that send water across the state. And by almost all measures, the drought picture in Northern California has dramatically improved over the last two months, as a series of storms have helped replenish the state’s two major water projects. So far this season, rain levels in the northern Sierra are 180% of average, with 23.5 inches of rain falling — and more on the way this week.

Thursday night’s forecast shows rain coming into San Diego County. Up to an inch of rain is expected in some coastal areas, and more is predicted to fall in the mountains. An update from the newly relaunched KPBS Drought Tracker shows the storm coming in the midst of a wet season that has so far brought California increased rain — but paltry snow — compared to previous drought years. Since the state’s wet season officially began on Oct. 1, California has seen a bit more rain than in many previous drought years.

When enemies are in face-to-face combat, they’re often blind to an obvious path to potential compromise.That’s certainly true of water warriors, who have been battling over California’s most valuable and limited resource since statehood. Fights don’t get any more ferocious than over water in this state. Agriculture just won a major battle over environmentalists in Congress because of an alliance between House Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Bakersfield) and Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.). But still raging in the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta is a decades-long struggle that will affect 25 million Californians and 3 million acres of farmland.

No. 8 Maureen Stapleton, general manager, San Diego County Water Authority.

A low gargle echoes against granite cliffs and resounds in the wooded canyons. Each pull of a starter handle and squeeze of a throttle is punctuated by the crack of splintering wood as another dead tree falls in a forest that’s changing all too rapidly. Niles Kant stands at the base of a red fir. Its crown, a thatch of brown needles, rises nearly 175 feet above a collection of cabins in the national forest.