The Moisture

I have learned to love the desert. The comforting dryness. The open spaces. The blazing sun. It is home to me now.

But this past week. I have been sent back to New England through the rain.

You see, the desert is quite frugal with rain. It teases, mocks, laughs. You may see a dark rain cloud creeping it's way to your house. And you may smell in the air or feel the temperament of the wind telling you rain is coming. But the desert is just joking. Toying with your emotions, so to speak. Even when we are graced with a spurt of rain, the thirsty ground greedily sucks up all the raindrops, rarely leaving a puddle. And the rain clouds are only permitted to stay a brief moment. Hardly ever a full day.

The sun is far too powerful in the desert. It is a egocentric dictator. The desert sun does not like to share.

But, I guess for the past week the sun has been in hiding. Permitting the rain to run free...for days.

And I have loved every minute of it.

It feels like New England. With every thing being brighter, greener. The earth smells better. The rain slows me down. Quiets the backyard. Makes things calmer. Softer. It's like the earth needed to take a deep breath. Have a moment to itself. Recharge. Reset.

I ran with my sister in law, Lysa, in the rain. It was sprinkling on and off again with a torrential downpour in the middle. Huge elephant tear drops falling in my face, bouncing off the pavement. And I let out a big "WAHOO!" Loud enough so that speedy Lysa, way ahead of me, could hear the smile I had on my face.

We had a sweet hail storm during the middle of last week. The kids and I sat on the front porch watching the ice dance in the grass. Ady asked, "Why is ice falling from the sky?" I said, "Because. The earth must need an ice cold drink today." That made sense to her. I mean, we all need to have an ice cold drink, right?

Very refreshing.