It’s raining. A long slow thunderstorm that Dad would have been watching to see when to call us in from the fields. I watched it on radar and watched the neighbors across the way finish up the back yard tasks they were doing and head for the house a few minutes before it arrived. The cicadas fell quiet, no bird calls. Time to duck and cover.
No wind. A little thunder. Mostly rain. Rain.
The willow bows to the heavens, leans into the straight down falling water. Smiles. Rests.
I’m chilly for the first time in months. Last evening, when it wasn’t as cool, Cliff said, “Your hands are cold. Why are your hands cold”? My body already knew fall was coming. The summer turns. We move on.
After an inch of rain, the thunder begins to roll eastward, but an inch! That’s one of those everyday miracles that hasn’t been happening this summer.
So here’s to the small miracles, and even more, to our ability to see them.
janetsunderland.com 
Rain storms are my FAVORITES!
Summer rain
Like a Good cry
Refreshes my soul
And makes me sigh.
Thanks, Valorie. A sweet ditty.
Well written…I could read more. Thanks for sharing your memories.
You’re welcome LeRoy. Thanks so much for being such a loyal reader!