Night is the only time the sun stops shining here in Connecticut. Summer has been perfect – unless you’re a plant or a reservoir.
We need rain. Leaves rustle too crisply in the smoke scented breeze. I fill the bird bath twice in a day.
I’ve had a longtime crush on California – imagining myself living where days are mostly bright and Winter means wearing a sweater. But these relentlessly dry days make me think about the long drought out West and I’m re-evaluating my fantasy. How terrible to live under threat of fire the likes of now in California, Washington and beyond.
No one has told us to curb our usage around here and I’ve watered the Peach trees and Hydrangea bushes to keep them alive – although this one may not make it.
For no particular reason, I’ve sacrificed this pot of Pansies and this Petunia.
I’ve ignored the plants out front – too far to drag the hose and anyway, the earth is so parched, water just flows down the slope into the street.
I definitely am neglecting the lawn. I don’t fertilize it so our grass is never our neighbors’ envy. Whatever. We’re not a golf course.
Without nurturing, beloved plants quickly wither in these summer days so glorious we exclaim to each other in agreement how great the weather is. I miss summer storms.
Without clouds, without root soaking rains, life fails.
I see this as a metaphor for my own life. I’ve prided myself on my abilty to move-on past shitty times as quickly as possible, for being adept at pulling my socks up and scurrying quick to brighter days. I don’t get depressed easily. I don’t cry much. I’m good at detaching from unpleasantness – something someone recently suggested to me might be masking denial. What is sacrificed when we fail to acknowledge, to sit in the darkness with sadness, to really feel pain and loss? Embracing emotional darkness and clouds can provide as much nourishment as the rains — allowing us to experience everything more deeply. We need these roots to feel the richness of love and joy. Without it, everything turns to dust and blows away.
Some days must be dark and dreary. Let it rain.
8 thoughts on “Into Every Life Some Rain Must Fall”
Lovely post. We had two unusual long-soaking rains here on the central coast of California this summer, and it’s kept the grass green below the oak trees. It wouldn’t stop a fire if one started up here, but it’s lovely to see green among the brown. I hope things green up for you too soon.
Summer drought reminds me that New England Fall is on the way, followed by Winter. We’ll get plenty of opportunities for feeling deeply during the darker dreary rainy days… great curl up with a good book by the fire times ahead!
Our grass has managed to remain a pale green even though it crunches underfoot and the flowers in the garden continue to thrive on dew alone. Just this morning, I wondered, as water flowed freely from the tap onto my toothbrush, when will some sort of group effort be requested to curb showers, flush only when brown, and minimize watering? Seems this call is being held off too long. A timely post and reflection. XXOO
I so enjoyed this beautiful meditation. How clever of you to find such elegiac, metaphorical power in parched earth. I miss summer storms, too — we were rudely shortchanged this summer here in Connecticut!
It always makes me so happy to see your name here, Elissa. Glad to have you reading and as my friend.
As everything around my area is brown and dry as well, your photos have a familiarity.
You stay safe!
Tricia, we’re very much alike about moving on and always looking on the bright side. I’m not sure what this means but I’m a bigger fan of rain than of sun. In any event, I hope you’ve had some rain by now–inside if not outside. Or you can always check this out: http://www.rainymood.com/.