We’re finally getting a bit more rain than we’ve received in a long time. Even as I rushed to cover the stacks of drying firewood with clear tarps and shelter other tools and items that needed to stay dry, it felt good to feel the rain on my face once again.
We have not been dangerously dry. Even with so little measurable precipitation, the seeps in the forest remain healthy. The one that flows across our trail, creating a dangerous ice field in the winter, continues to feed a puddle in the middle of the path. Our most trusted weather prognosticator predicts a dry summer, much like 2009. We’re somewhat concerned about the water supply later this summer, but not worried, yet.
The gentle rain, as expected, is the missing ingredient needed for the foliage to burst forth. The newly sifted soil, lush, dark, and fluffy in the garden grow boxes, soaks it in. With herring and seaweed mixed in, they’re ready to nourish summer produce. The rhubarb leaves unfold their exquisitely wrinkled leaves and spread them as if to receive the moisture. The spruce needles sparkle with heavy droplets. Buds swell, leaflets grow longer by the hour. Watching it all, we can feel our hearts expand accordingly.
Dry days are incredibly convenient. Very few homestead tasks or chores could be said to be improved by rain. When the sun shines, important work gets accomplished. But, this is rain country, and I am apparently a child of the rain forest. I feel just a little bit better, more secure, more right, when the rain falls. Right as rain.
