After the Rain

A day full of rain now and again is a given in September. Travelers in a dry and dusty landscape, we have been in need of rain and longing for it too. Yesterday, the skies addressed our parched state in an ecstatic display of thunder and lightening that rattled the windows, a drenching rain that shook roof shingles and eaves and set the windbells on the veranda dancing vigorously. Little rivers filled the village gutters and went dancing down the streets bearing fallen leaves, twigs and acorns, and their glossy reflections held the dark clouds high above. Just before sunset the cloud rolled back for a moment, and the waxing moon was visible for a brief scrap of time.

The bronze and burgundy chrysanthemums and scarlet geraniums on the cobblestone walkway at the front of the little blue house were looking parched and rather forlorn earlier, but this morning they have recovered their bounce and zest and called back into mind their reasons for being - to share their vibrant color with the world and cheer those who pass by, to welcome and greet those who attend our threshold.

After a September rain, there are serendipitous ponds everywhere, and Spencer and I paused at them all on our early walk this morning, watching the leaves drifting down from their high perches and coming to rest on the water and the rocks here and there. There were clouds and blue sky in each and every pool of water, and every one was a wonder.