The magical power of rain

Rain isn’t always good, we know. My brother called a couple of days ago about rain; a massive lightning bolt started a fire in his apartment building, everybody

A pot of gold in an oak?

A pot of gold in an oak?

was OK, and if I wanted to take a look at it, a couple of brave souls making sure all the pets and people were safe got out their GoPros and made the storm and the fire a YouTube hit.

Just the same, what we’d do for a little rain! So it was magical yesterday to watch monsoon clouds build, then spill gently and straight down. The rain wasn’t a lot, just enough for birds to make birdbaths out of dents in the asphalt where the Botts’ dots go on the main road.

I perched on the front steps, catching a few drops on my shoulders out of range of a pine tree, watching tree pollen swirl away in yellow rivulets and waiting for lightning that never came. The rain felt wonderful, though it was only enough to wet everything. What felt better was knowing that it could rain after all of our drought. The faucet isn’t stuck shut. Nature hasn’t forgotten.

So many parts of the country have gotten too much rain. Here we have dust. Spring arrived in January. Tree fruit came two months early. Raspberries are ready now instead of August. The voles and gophers, which made several passes underground last summer, quit this year after one.

A couple of weeks ago, it rained in the evening. I drove to town More

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June 2015
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