It's raining today. The steady, relentless kind of rain that falls in solid lines instead of drops. I hope it lasts for days.
I hadn't taken note until I woke to a chill, stealing through my open window and a bit later, the first sprinklings of rain, that this has been an unusually dry Spring. The "April showers" never came. In fact, here in mid-May we're getting our first steady rain.
The whole outdoors smells fresh and wormy, raw, new. I can have hope today, as the water works its salve on the wounded earth. All the lovely things beneath rock-hard soil are burgeoning, lying in wait to burst through dirt, through stems, through tightly shut buds on tree branch.
Yesterday I was withering with the grass, scattering to the winds like the chalky earth. Today I will be silent and wait. I am being fed.
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How's the rain?
Short lived. But it was beautiful while it lasted. I forgot that a fertile earth supports nasty things as well as beautiful ones. Now I've got to get out there and yank up some weeds.
Garlic Mustard (an invasive plant in these parts)proliferates all over my lawn. You have to yank them out, individually, at the root, or next summer there will be 10 times this year's number. If I let it go, of course, it will kill off all the plants whose natural habitat is Southwestern Michigan. Then all the butterflies and birds and critters who make their home on my little plot of land, and the larger animals that pass through, will go someplace else in search of food.
Without wanting to over-stretch an analogy, as my Mother (God bless her) is wont to do, I will say that I find more and more human and spiritual revelation of truth in nature all the time. I won't connect the dots for you.
Now if I can figure out the best uprooting tool...
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