It’s been an unseasonably warm and dry winter and spring. Being able to till and plant the garden earlier than normal spread out the work, so I feel less fatigue and time crunch. With that blessing another weighed on me. It was so dry out. On my walks, when I felt the grass stiff instead of flexible, I prayed, Lord, please send rain.
Winter or summer we sleep with an open window so last week in the wee hours, I heard it: the whisper of mist. Then a tiny tapping, tentative at first then insistent. Rain, glorious rain. It lodged the hay, knocking it over, but it filled the rain barrel, refreshed the soil, and brought hope to farmers.
Now it is time to get back to work in the garden: planting tomatoes, hilling potatoes, weeding out nasturtiums, delighting in emerging seedlings.
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