Wet

If there was any heavy rain last night or this morning I slept through it, and it didn't last long as my back porch was dry, which it never is after a sustained heavy rain. Since I woke up (about half past one this afternoon) we have had no more than sprinkles, drizzles, and mists punctuating periods of dry, gray sky. No clear days are predicted for a week, and six of the next ten days either will be or could be rainy. It's going to be getting colder too, after Wednesday. Chances are I won't be able to go shopping without risking a soaking next week, as both Friday and Sunday have a possibility of rain. And winter doesn't even officially begin for more than two weeks.

Well, we're certainly getting the water we wanted, and the mountains are definitely getting some snow. Now if it keeps on this way through February we should have at least one more decent spring before the whole place dries up and blows away. For now, the night is full of the sound of dripping, the damp seeps deeper into the soil and roots lift it back up, into the blades of grass, the leaves of bushes, the dripping, bare branches of the trees, to where next spring's new twigs will grow, and the leaves that will follow them. I hear no sounds other than the dripping, and my own breathing. For now, it sounds like a world that will survive.


( Sunday Verse )