Rain

Rain spills from gray skies. My garden remains unplanted, a muddy brown splotch in the midst of all the green. The forecasters who told us this week would be sunny and warm have retracted their words, changed them to “cloudy” and “showers.” Only four days until summer officially begins, and we are wearing turtleneck sweaters and turning on the heater. Although June is barely half over, rainfall records have already been broken.

 At first I fussed and fumed. “When will this stupid rain stop? How will I ever get my vegetable garden planted?” An occasional nice day would drop like a gift into our laps, stick around just long enough to get our hopes up, then dissolve into the showers of the next day. “A couple more nice days, and we could have tilled the garden. A few more, and I could have had it all planted.” But disappointment came again, and I sat at the window, watching the rain pour down. All my complaints would not stop the rain.

 I try to look at the bright side. Without the rain, we would not have the greenness that makes our area so beautiful. Green is such an amazing color! And I really do prefer cool, wet weather to the boiling hot days of summer. If I could just get that garden in… Patience is hard to learn, isn’t it? I am trying; I really am.  

 I look out at the grays and greens, the white blossoms on the dogwood, the pink roses across the street, and there is a calmness to it, like the steady patter of the rain that lulls me to sleep at night. “To everything, there is a season.” I try to resign myself to what will be, to accept what is. But I still think the spring rains have overstayed their welcome… I want my garden!

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Clouds

I like clouds. Living in the Pacific Northwest as I do, liking clouds is a good survival strategy. Not counting the months of July-September, clouds tend to be a part of our weather more often than not. The dull gray nimbostratus clouds that fill the sky I could do without. They darken the day and bring that steady “Oregon mist” that gets into everything and covers my glasses if I forget to carry an umbrella.

 Cirrus clouds ride high in the sky, making wispy feather shapes and neat designs. You could get some good wallpaper patterns from cirrus clouds. They don’t usually last long, since they foretell the coming of rain, usually in the form of stratus or nimbus clouds.

 Cumulus clouds are the most impressive, available in a nice range of styles and colors. They puff across the summer sky like cotton balls strewn about in the blueness. When conditions are right, they pile up like somebody went crazy with the canned whipped cream. They may turn dark and foreboding, flashing lightning and thunder that sends the dog cringing to my side, pelting the ground with icy hard pellets.

 Clouds are constantly changing, particularly in the unsettled springtime. They provide an ever-evolving mural against which the trees bring forth the bright blossoms and varied greens of April. I like clouds.

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New Year

My husband and I took our first walk of the new year—getting out early (for us) before the rain started. The dog pranced eagerly, pulling on the leash to hurry us along. Cool air brushed our faces, and the road was wet under our feet. I had heard the rain pour down last night—drumming loudly on the roof just after midnight as if celebrating with us. Puddles and rivulets here and there remained in testimony. Along the south side of the road a row of miniature icebergs stood, rising above grass and gravel, left over from the snow plow’s work a couple of days before. The rain had carved them into odd shapes as it melted all other traces of snow.

 Near the end of our dead end street, a lone crow rose from the telephone wires and flew off, cawing as it went. A squirrel flipped its tail at us and skittered up a tree. Maples and alders raised bare limbs to a gray sky, while firs and cedars still stood green and proud. Clouds moved in, growing darker and more threatening.

 We stopped to visit with a neighbor, taking down Christmas decorations. I had always slowed down when passing his house at night to enjoy the lights. But that was last year; now all things were new and starting over. What would be new in my life this year, I wondered.

 We made it home two minutes before the next shower. The new year frequently begins with rain here in western Oregon. We may tire of it at times, but rain is a good thing. Rain refreshes the earth and brings the beautiful green shoots of spring.

 What new, green things do you hope to see in the coming year?

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