Watched the storm.
Thunder filled out the edges of my dreams into wakefulness, drew us outside. Skies, tumultuous clouds, cornfields and trees illuminated with the constant, flickering lightning. The storm was immediate and alarming, tremendous roaring thunder that echoes across the sky and leaves the house shaking. Rain misting our arms and faces. We sat on overturned wooden crates, tucked under the eaves, watched the wind toss trees and throw down shifting sheets of water. The parched soil and all the dry hungry roots, yearning for damp.
An hour after we’d crawled back into bed I’m up again – the world is cool, lovely. We may be in for more rain and only pale soft patches of blue show through the grey overhead. The goats are out in their pasture, the ducks happily splashing, chickens scratching for bugs and worms.
In the city this rain would be rivers in concrete, spluttering-down runoff to overflowing storm sewers. I’m thankful instead to be here and see the pond refilled, vegetables and fruit trees soaked through.