Water from the sky

We try not to notice. To accept it. To be Zen.

Once we do take note, we try not to complain. What would that do? Make it worse. Can’t take it personally. It’s happening to everyone. Everyone. Think of the troops in faraway deserts. Think of starving children in Africa. Think of….and shush.  

It’s just summer, it’s just summer…..right?

It’s running a marathon. It’s holding a long, slow, deep yoga pose that you just…can’t…quite…melt into. Painful…but bearable…I can do this. Breathe. We adjust our schedules. Early mornings. After sunset. I. Will. Not. Complain.   

It’s the ongoing joke. It’s the only conversation at the Farmer’s Market. How are you? Fine..but could really use some rain. No shit? Me too.

One farmer laughs… “I’m not gardening anymore. What I’m doing is 90% irrigation..and 10% gardening.”

Most farmers stopped laughing more than two weeks ago.

If you don’t grow or garden or care, this respite into central air may have felt like cool, calm solitude. Cozying up during a long, steaming sun ray blizzard.

But if you grow food, flowers, living creatures…if you run, bike, hike, jump…

If you rely on the outdoors for sanity…

If you have children who grow, run, bike, jump…

You go…a…little…mad.

Rain, rain, rain….beautiful open tumultuous heavens. Plants sigh. Shoulders drop. Attitudes adjust. Vegetables stand to attention.

Pure, honest humility and gratitude for the power that is water.   

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