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





Linking with Weekly Top Shot
and Camera Critters

Clouds of Fury

Don, besides being a good photographer himself, is often my spotter for photo ops.  This afternoon, he called from where he was driving back to his office, and said I needed to see the clouds over Theodosia.  I was at my computer, unaware of the sky, and I'm so grateful he called.  The clouds were full of fury, thunder and lightning, and so far, 3/4 inches of rain.

This is the Theodosia bridge, with the marina across the lake.

Who can understand how He spreads out the clouds,

how He thunders from His pavilion?

Job 36:29

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Storm Symphony

While following a trail in the woods yesterday, I had the distinct impression that Barley and I had crashed a wedding, and that a flower girl had strewn the path with dogwood petals.  It was only the wind, of course, that had coaxed those dogwoods into letting go of their blossoms, and rightly so; they needed to make way for the berries that will form in the summer, ripen to glossy red in the fall, and feed the birds in the winter.

Thunderstorms have been almost a daily occurrence lately, and they came in the mid-morning yesterday, and again in the afternoon.  Late in the day, Don and I sat on the front porch to take in the light show and symphony.  Lightning flashed almost continuously and the storm was deafening; long peals of thunder were overlaid with the harmony of rain on the bricks and rocks.  The finale was hail, its low pitched percussion on the steel roof, mid-tones on the deck, and high pings on the metal railing.  In a matter on minutes, it filled the gutters and overflowed, bouncing like marimba sticks in the grass.

When it was over, white hailstones and dogwood petals filled the front yard.  Mist drifted over the far hillsides, settled down in the valleys, and waited for the next rain.