Brief respite from the glorious rain.
After four years of drought, we’d almost forgotten what spring looks like “when the world is puddle-wonderful” (e.e.cummings) and the river starts to rise.
To feel the atmosphere pulse and observe as the earth absorbs all this moisture connects me to the landscape in wild and curious ways. I put on a thick hooded Carhart and wandered through the garden. Finally the seedlings are sprouting. Cilantro from 3 years ago is volunteering in the footpath through the lavender (I blocked its trampling with a loaf-sized rock). I thrive as well. There is a patter of rain all day and all night so soothing I sleep well at night and work well in the day. I understand why people listen to recordings of waves and rain and waterfalls, but it would frustrate me to look out at the contradiction.
The sun breaks through sometimes–enough to blossom the redbuds and fruit trees. Enough to let us modify the French drain where it backs up. Enough to go out and observe the seasonal waterfalls off Tivy Mountain.
The photos above look south out the front sliver window. I love the way the I-beam from the north reflects like a magazine insert. The unsightly propane tank is slowly disappearing behind the row of guavas I planted. While the nursery claims they are drought-tolerant, they grow more quickly with the rain. The oval is partially bare because we re-trenched to add drip irrigation for the poor guavas–just in time for the rain to return!