After The Rain

It's been extraordinarily dry. Grass has begun to turn brown, yellow, stopped growing. It's a waste of water to haul out the sprinklers, better to wait out the dry spell. The grass will simply go into a rest period until rain restores its vigour. Shelter your eyes from the arid appearance, wait.

The gardens, though, and the garden pots, that's another thing entirely. They must be watered to ensure all the flowering elements of the garden that give it colour and beauty and form and fragrance don't languish into nothingness. Expire, and become compost. That's too cruel an end for so much loveliness.

There are occasional, teasing and swiftly-over episodes of desultory drizzles, amounting to nothing at all, barely a sweep of moisture over the thirsty landscape. But then, when nature tires of her teasing games and lets loose a hefty, overnight, all-night rain, everything is restored, all is returned to health.

We turn about the garden, see a robin intent on pulling worms from the soil; its reward for patience. We see goldfinches weaving their way from the birdbath to the overhanging boughs of the apple tree. And wonder of wonders, the iridescent green of a hummingbird flits past on its way to one bright red Monarda flower to another.

Over the top of the back fence, a black squirrel rummages, then runs across to our neighbour's side. In quick succession, a tiny red squirrel follows the same back fence route, then runs back to the opposite side again, uncertain of proceeding. He's likely had occasion to note the occasional presence of our other neighbour's oft-skulking black cat.

The wonderful passion flower vine on the back deck stretches its tendrils happily; it has found the supporting poles I plunged into its containing pot yesterday, before the rain. The seeking tendrils of the black-eyed Susan vines are doing likewise over their tee-pee'd poles, promising perky yellow flowerheads soon.

The flowering plants that I had moved about in one small garden yesterday to ensure they won't soon overgrow the other, shorter blooming plants have now been more than adequately moistured into their newly-receiving soil. The sweet basil that I cut back so amply yesterday is newly encouraged to perform.

We are truly grateful.