We had rain last night.
It has been predicted, but for most of May, none came. I quit paying attention to the forcasts.
Last night, it came. The thunder only grumbled. The wind blew knife sharp.
At my west door, the dogs and I stood, sniffing, the perfume that long un-rained earth gives up. It smelled like dry grass, rich soil, and somehow, live oaks. Plants I , and probably they, didn't know. We are surrounded by hackberries and pecans, but live oaks have this piquant scent.
The rain blew under my 12-foot metal awning, spraying water to the back door.
Stepping out the front door on the east, spray blew in, but mostly, we were dry.
I stepped in,climbed into bed, finished my wine, found a stopping place in my book.
Because the unexpected rain was to be celebrated, and I was already relaxed. I could hear the drumming on the roof., the muted brumbling of the thunder, every now and then catch the flash of lightning, or sheet lightning.
I turned out the light, pulled the sheet over my shoulders, and smiled.
The dogs settled. We all relaxed and enjoyed a cosy, comfortable place out of the rain, but glad for the rain. They were comfort. My bed was too. So safe, so soft, so comfortable.
The world looked new again this morning.