It’s raining, it’s pouring,
The old man is snoring.
He went to bed and
bumped his head
And couldn’t get up
in the morning.
Water is falling from the gray sky here in the Sierra mountains of Northern California. I’m not an old man, I didn’t bump my head, and I got up this morning, but oh, I’m creaky. Someone find my oil can!
After three years of drought, the world around me is dry, dry, dry. But now the rain is here. It’s right on schedule. I couldn’t be happier.
The damp, negative-ion-charged air is refreshing. The wind that came with the storm is belling and jingling the wind chimes on the eaves. Rain spatters the windows, thrums on the roof. I can almost hear the earth sighing with relief.
While the shift in air pressure the change in the weather brought with it has made me twinge and ache, I don’t mind. That happens regardless of the weather, and I’ll tell you a little secret. I love rain. I love storms. Yesterday my daughter, her fiance and I covered the stacked firewood, purchased in June, with tarps to keep it dry. Matt filled the wood-ring next to the woodstove with seasoned, spicy-smelling almond-wood. And as soon as I get up enough gumption to dump last year’s ash-can and clean the old ash out of the stove (a chore I forgot all about!), I’ll start the first fire of the season. There’s something incredibly comforting about a crackling fire in the hearth. The warmth is like no other. The scent conjures images of hats and mittens, cold noses and hot cocoa.
I like wrapping my achy fingers around a cup of cocoa. It feels wonderful. I hope that this first, early storm of the season isn’t the last. Let it rain. Let it snow when the time comes. Let this be the fall and winter that finally breaks the long drought. Oh, I’m ready. I have my rice-and-lavender-filled hot packs. I have my rheuma-gloves. I have thick, warm socks. And through my window, open a crack to let in the fresh, rain-charged air, I can hear the tall pines all around the house whispering in the wind. If I close my eyes, I can hear the soft roar of the ocean surf in their voices.
Oh, yes. Let it rain.
Photo copyright Leslie Vandever 2009.