Blessed rain

It's raining! For the past two weeks, while my friends in Nederland, Port Arthur and Beaumont have been getting relief from the long period we've had without rain, it's been dancing all around us.

Yesterday, we got a decent rain. Now, it's raining good and hard and the dusty field next to us that our neighbors just cleared to make way for planting hay looks like a lake. Of course, it's just a thin layer of water waiting to soak in. Within a half hour, it'll be gone.

There's nothing like rain when you haven't seen it in a while. I love the smell of the air just before and after a rain. It provides delicious anticipation and blessed thanks. And I love sitting on our porch and watching the heavy drops fall from the leaves.

Today, I give thanks for life-giving rain.

The Art of Rain

One of my favorite times to walk through a garden is after a gentle rain. When the clouds open and light comes through, colors explode. The greens are more vibrant, allowing you to see the endless variations of shades from leaf to leaf. Bright colors, like the red of this hibiscus that grew taller than me this year, are saturated with hues that reflect off the raindrops that pool like jewels.

I've always loved rainy days. I think it goes back to my childhood, when I'd pack a lunch, call my dog to come along and go exploring the woods around our Arkansas home. I'd stay gone for hours, enjoying the solitude and being at peace in surroundings that fed my soul. I loved the days it misted. I'd sit under a big oak and listen to the subtle ways the woods changed. The rain sent creatures seeking shelter, and although a forest never is truly silent, everything became a whisper: the wind, heavy drops cascading down a leaf's vein and falling from the tip with a liquid plop!

This morning, I stood under a small porch my husband built with a bar and space for the barbecue pit. It has a tin roof, and there's no better place to listen to rain than that. A good friend recently brought me boxes of mix-and-match Mexican-style tile he found at a rummage sale. I've been sorting through the boxes seeing if there was enough tile in one pattern to cover the bar. While it rained, I shifted tiles back and forth, looking for a pattern that would fit. The silence, except for rain, soothed me and brought such peace while I worked. My prayer for you today is that such moments come to you often, and that you find your own company entirely pleasing.

Let it rain!

Every day I check the weather forecast to see what the odds are of us getting any rain. After a long, hot, dry summer, we really need it here in Southeast Texas. The trouble is, in our region, when it does rain, it's hit or miss. On the way home from Beaumont a couple of days ago, I drove through a nice sheet of rain. It stopped five miles from our house, which was dry as a bone. How can a cloud hold so much water that it has to let it go only to dump it with such precision that you'd think it had a logistics map and strict orders not to miss the target area?

We've gotten some rain, but not enough to make the kind of difference the ground needs right now. At this moment, the skies outside are a promising gray, but I'm not going to get excited until I hear the soothing sound of plump raindrops against the window panes. The weather forecast says a 50 percent chance of rain. I think they need to define 50 percent. Is that a 50 percent chance it will rain SOMEWHERE in the area - and that of that 50 percent, there is a 50 percent chance of catching a little of it? I'm not great at math, but to me, the odds are against us.

Doing the Rain Dance

Every evening, I scan the weather forecast on The Enterprise's website and look for that lovely symbol with diagonal lines that symbolizes rain. Every morning, I do it again, hoping that conditions changed and rain clouds are forming on the horizon.

Our yard and the flower beds that have the least shelter from the sun are parched. The hydrangeas that were lush and beautiful weeks ago now are wilted and browning. We water them faithfully, but the sun and wind overpower our efforts. Forecast today? 20% chance of thunderstorms. Of course, a June thunderstorm these days is about 5 minutes of scattered sprinkle. I'll take it.