I sat on my back porch drinking a cup of tea. The rain came down hard, and then soft, then hard again. The wet was beautiful. The dry spots under the swing set are veritable little lakes of mud.
I sat, sipping, listening to the peaceful sounds. Rest, after a busy morning. A good book on my lap. Wondering if the rain was just here, or if it extended thirty miles to the South. So funny, that things are lush and green in my neighborhood, but in the town where many of my friends live, life has been dangerously brown.
I called my friend. She said they got a good soaking. What a blessing!
Whenever it rains, the grass, clover, honeysuckle, lilac bush and redbud tree all turn a brilliant, wet green. The blooming roses, like droplets of jewels at the far end of the yard become a striking contrast in the gray light. Everything is awash with music and beauty, when it rains.
And I remembered another friend who has eye problems and only can drive on cloudy days. Today she had an important appointment, and the clouds are most welcome.
An answered prayer and an icon of mercy is this rain. A reminder of life and beauty and growing things is this rain.
I bet the weeds enjoyed their drink, as well.