Enjoyment comes from a little rain

These past few weeks the soil in our garden looked as if it had been kiln dried. I was afraid it would soon wither and die, but the weatherman promised we’d get rain, and this time he got it right. 

Caillou (our collie) heard the storm coming early this morning and came to the edge of the bed to nuzzle my hand.

He can hear thunder from miles away, long before it’s audible to humans. He’s not a fan of

bad clouds and this morning he seemed to be saying, “Could you make this stop please so we can get some sleep?”

When I looked over at the glowing green numbers on the nightstand clock, I saw that it was almost time to get the coffee started, so I rolled out of bed. Stumbling into the kitchen, I punched the brew button on the coffee pot before stepping to the garden door. In the distance, lightning strobed in the west.

As I stood there, the wind made the citrus tree limbs dance on our deck. And then the rain began. It was slow at first but after a few moments, the rain ticking on the metal roof sounded like someone typing a letter on a manual typewriter. I love that sound.

The sky remained overcast most of the morning and just before lunch, another line swept through the area. I stepped over to my office window and watched rain spattering on the brick courtyard. 

One of the instructors slid open an umbrella for the short walk between buildings. From my vantage point, it looked like a giant mushroom bobbing in the rain.

Sometimes when it rains for long periods of time, I get restless, and the walls seem to close in on me, but during times with long dry spells, I welcome the summer showers.

This evening after work when I walked out back, I noticed that several tomato cages had blown over. Experience has taught me not to walk on the wet garden soil in good shoes, so I stepped back inside and tugged on my work boots.

Back outside, I picked up several stakes used to support the top-heavy tomato cages when they are laden with fruit. 

About halfway into the garden, a smile crept over my face when I mired up ankle deep in the muddy soil. My expression would have been much different had I been wearing my good shoes.

Lifting the plants gently, I drove the stakes through the rings of the wire cages with an all-purpose garden brick. Squishing back a few steps, I stood admiring my handiwork. 

A hummingbird zipped up so close that I could have reached out and touched it. It seemed to be inspecting my work before heading over to the edge to sip nectar from the flowers planted around the border of our garden.

I finished up and used the hosepipe to spray the mud from my boots. Before going inside, I quietly sat for a long while on our garden bench, taking it all in. 

It’s amazing how much enjoyment comes from a little rain.

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You may have recognized bits and pieces of this column from a post from last week. That happens sometimes. When I get an idea on my blog that feels right, I'll turn it into a column which is what happened here. I hope you don't mind.