It’s been hot. Stifling even, and summer hasn’t even started in earnest yet. The sun over head glaring down, burning away at this crust of earth. The moisture in the ground giving in, and rising up in choking humidity.
But today, today, we awoke to the grey of coming rain. The air heavy in anticipation.
When the drops come, they come heavy, wrapped in a symphony for the senses.
The constant shushing against leaves, pinging on the metal downspouts, slapping down on the deck floor.
The slightly metallic smell of dirt and wet asphalt floats in the air.
On my deck rail, a squirrel braves the weather, tail hoisted over his back—a natural umbrella twitching, directing the music.
The storm comes in swells—starts . . .
and stops.
It’s rhythm unpredictable, coy. Leaving behind puddles, drips and drops joined together in a chorus of reflected light.
As the rain eases, the birds talk to one another almost as if they’re checking to be sure the others are safe, in tune, on track. The tapping of a woodpecker announcing all is well.
All is well.
And the curtain closes. The symphony complete.
Obviously rain isn’t always a wonderful thing, but there are times when we yearn for those days heavy with rain. My kids love to play in the rain. I haven’t done it yet this year and I’ve really missed it. I might just have to join them.
What’s your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?
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“… wrapped in a symphony for the senses.” Indeed. I love the rain in any form, and I love your writing.
May you be filled with passion and creativity in your work.
~ Richard ~
Thank you. I’m struggling with my post for next week so I especially appreciate the encouragement.