First Rain

Wind kicked up Saturday just after deer had come out into the field,

and then the rain started, softly at first, then gaining momentum.

The deer stood in the open, absorbing every drop, 

until the sky exploded with light and sound, and water came down in hard stripes, 

sending them into the cover of the woods. 

When the storm abated, a fawn ventured out with its mother,

wonder-struck at the fireworks and the water still falling from the sky,

the cool fresh air and the smell of wet earth.

And then it ran; 

it ran for the joy of being alive and being young and fast

and feeling soft wet ground underfoot for the first time in its short life.

It ran like lightning,

flashing by the field in broad circles.

The others watched and remembered,

and then a doe and a young buck joined the romp,

all three chasing the wind, fueled by the rain.

It was over in a few minutes.

Sunday morning was quiet;
moisture hung low over the hills, swelled the pond, straightened bent flowers

and ended the drought.




God's voice thunders in marvelous ways;

He does great things beyond our understanding.

He says to... the rain shower, "Be a mighty downpour".

So that everyone He has made may know His work,

He stops all people from their labor.

  The animals take cover...


Job 37:5-8





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Wet Weather Creek

It's been a rainy week, 

culminating last night in lightning and bowling ball thunder, 

and rivers of rain rolling from the sky.

In the middle of the night, I reached down to the side of the bed, 

and sure enough, there was Barley, tucked close, in his place of shelter,

This morning we walked to the hollow, and before we were half way down,

 we could hear the sound of water.  

Trickles along the path flowed into small streams and waterfalls, 

dripping off mossy rocks, and singing as they went.  

They gathered in the bottom for a chorus of praise.

In a calm pool in the bend of the creek, 

Barley lowered himself slowly into the chilly water and took a drink.

Rue Amemone

On the way back, we passed wildflowers, those jewels of the woods, 

rue anemone, wild sweet William, violet wood sorrel.

Violet Wood Sorrel

All of this is fleeting--the wet weather creek, the fading flowers--

even Barley's shelter in the storm.

  

But today I'm grateful for something permanent--

the shelter that is always available in Jesus, 

and His living water, that never fails to flow.

For He will conceal me in His shelter in the day of adversity;

He will hide me under the cover of His tent;

He will set me high on a rock.

Psalm 27:5

Whoever is thirsty, let him come;

and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

Revelation 22:17

Six Days in April

Barley helps with the lake cleanup.

It's quiet outside tonight; the sky is taking a respite after 6 days of rain. Our boots are parked at the front door; raincoats are draped over chairs in the dining room, and when we go to the grocery store in our olive green rubber Northerner boots, no one stares at us. The little red warning light on our weather radio has been on so much lately, I was beginning to think it was stuck, first warning for severe thunderstorms, then flooding, and today tornado. Fortunately, no tornados have developed, and though we won't be dealing with flooding at our house on the hill, plenty of people in this area will be. 

Have I mentioned that Don likes to count things? He has 3 rain gauges, all within a mile of the Theodosia bridge, and every time it rains he takes the average of the 3 and posts it on his calendar, so at least in theory, he gets a pretty accurate reading of how much rain has fallen at the bridge. Since last Tuesday, we've had over 15" of rain. In the same time, Bull Shoals Lake has come up 15 1/2' and is still rising. Our average annual rainfall is 43", so in the last 6 days, we've received more than a third of what we usually get in a year.

The lake is muddy and runoff from the creeks has washed down dead limbs, which gather on the surface in large drifts. Waterfalls are everywhere. Frogs sing in the ponds, delighted with their good fortune. A pair of wood ducks dropped into our yard when all this was starting; we've seen them in a big hollow tree behind the house, and heard them talking to each other on the big pond. They must think they have found a paradise, where it rains every day, and the ponds are full. They needn't concern themselves with the lack of rain tonight. There's more on the way.

Winter Tasks

The sun flirted with orange clouds on the last morning of the year before fat raindrops fell from a darkening sky.  Scattered circles on the pond became a dense pattern as the rain danced in a frenzy on the surface of the water.  The thirsty ground tipped back its head and drank down the liquid in large gulps.  Birds fled for their roost trees and squirrels dove into their dens.  Then, almost as quickly as the rain had started, it was over, the sun reappeared, and a Spring Peeper sang from the pond.  By late morning, it felt like spring. Chipmunks, hunkered down in their dens until recently, were running full tilt across the lawn to the rock pile that supports our birdbath, where they have a stash of acorns.  


Don and I spent the afternoon in our annual tasks of grinding venison for burger, and smoking summer sausage.  We finished up Saturday, and it feels good to have a store of meat prepared and laid up in the freezer.  In the late afternoon, after working inside most of the day, we stepped outside into a cold blast that went right to the bones.  We took a walk anyway, and when we got home, we were glad we did.


This morning was quiet, and every leaf glittered with frost.  Before church, Don built a fire in the wood furnace, bringing a welcome warmth to the house.  Chipmunks, tucked back in their warm dens, are dreaming of springtime, and so am I.

Nocturne

Late last night, on and off, the wind worried around the house, stirring the trees, humming in the chimney.  When it quieted to a mouse's breath, the crickets and cicadas would take up the song.  Then it swelled to a forte, and acorns pelted the roof. But the rain, where was the rain?  Sometimes its hard to sleep when you're waiting for rain. 

Who Knows?

Afternoon showers popped up last Friday and Saturday and a thunderstorm blew in Sunday evening.  Laying in bed listening to the rain, I thought about all the things that would profit from the deluge.  A while back, Don and I had planted some small cedars as a living fence, and I could almost hear them growing in the night.  Wild blackberries are almost ripe, and they were in dire need of some rain for a good crop. Raspberries, just starting to blossom, drank deeply, and the frogs happily moved to new territory.  Come to think of it, they've been absent from my flower bed, having found water elsewhere.  Ponds filled again, and the deer and turkey and rabbits will appreciate the growth that results from this rainy weekend.  

But not everything benefitted from the storm.  Lightning struck Don's office for at least the fourth time in memory.  It fried the phone circuitry, some clocks and a keyboard, and blasted off the top off of a power pole behind the office that had been replaced only 3 weeks ago.  Don found chunks of that pole scattered more than 100 feet apart in 2 different directions.  Of course, it could have been much worse.

The night before, laying in bed listening to the rain, I had drifted off into a sweet sleep, without a thought about what the lightning would do.  And as it turned out, I think, that was just as well.  I'm reminded of the old gospel song,

Who knows, when the morning goes, 

What the day will hold at it's close?

All we can tell is that all is well

In the hand of the One who knows.