Stormy Weather

Thunder rumbled to the west and a breeze sprang up,
whipping the tree branches. Sophia paused to let the cooler air flow
across her.
“We have to stop, it’s going to rain.”
“We cannot stop yet, Jack, there is still daylight!”
“Sophia, I am not going to stand here and get soaked—”
His sentence was punctuated with the plop! of a large drop of
water at his feet. A moment later one hit Sophia on the nose, and
then in the next instant while she looked at Jack, the sky opened
and the squall came down in torrents, soaking them where they
stood.
Sophia turned to run for the less than adequate shelter of their
lean-to.
Jack grabbed her hand and raised his voice over the pounding
of the water falling on them. “Wait!”
“Why?” she yelled back, blinking rain out of her eyes.
“’Cause it feels good,” he said with a soggy grin.

--The Bride and the Buccaneer


I love sitting on the back porch when a storm's coming up. The wind begins to whip around, the temperature drops to tolerable levels, the snap of ozone fills the air. Trees sway back and forth, and the windchimes tinkle madly. There's a bird at the feeder, grabbing a last beakful of seed before flying off to wherever wrens hunker down to ride out the wind and the rain.

In a year when we've been subject to severe droughts, the rain's a blessing.  I look at my lush groundcover, the ferns springing back, the resurrected ginger flowers and I'm grateful for every drop that'll trickle down to recharge the aquifer.

It's summer in Florida. Afternoon rains are part of the normal daily rhythm and a blessing, and I welcome hearing the pounding of the water on the roof.