Rain, rain...

Torrential downpour. Raining cats and dogs. Coming down by the bucketful. A wall of water. Every simile, metaphor, or cliched descriptive phrase applying to a heavy rain could have been used to describe the weather we had last night and into this morning. Over night, we got about 2 inches. This morning, rain continued to come in waves, but we haven't checked the rain gauge yet. There are branches in the yard. The rain barrels are gushing over. Plants have bended and folded under the weight of the water. The paths in our garden are flooded. We didn't need the rain -- we haven't watered in forever.

Days like this, it's hard to imagine that there will be times in August when the soil is cracked and the pavement emanates waves of heat and the plants are wilty, thirsting for water. And a few drops that practically evaporate before they hit the ground will seem like a tease, and the long anticipated thunder storm will quench the earth, bring us out to dance and celebrate the rain. It's hard to imagine...

Despite the fact that we're waterlogged, the storm was really quite lovely. I mean, when you could see through the water. Streaks of lightning reached from the ground to the heavens, jagged and bright, surprising. The air is (finally) warm, so running through the rain from one dry spot to another was actually fun, a game; we laughed and splashed like children.

Rain, rain, go away; we'll celebrate you another day!