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.