Rain

.
Blessed rain.

We're only 10 or 20 inches behind so far this year. Many of the crops either withered aborning or soon after. Pastures usually so green in a late spring were a uniform straw brown in color.

But, hope is not lost. Yesterday the Governor and all the big wigs at the state Farm Bureau down in Macon called on everyone to join in a prayer for rain.

We'll need more, but a thunderstorm came through the corner of Smokey Rd. and Nowhere Rd. and dumped what must have been an inch or more of rain. Puddles appeared for the first time in months.

I stood barefooted on the front stoop and enjoyed the roar of wind in the leaves and rain bouncing off the driveway. Pine treetops were thrown back and forth in a fury, or a dance of delight, not sure which, Twenty or thirty feet to their arc at the height of the storm.

And like listerine kills the bacteria in your mouth and makes you want to spit them out, so the winds and rain cleansed the air, with a little help from the lightning to give it that ozone smell, which quickly drops all the ugly smells to the ground, leaving that smell of fresh laundry on the line.

And it seemed as if some of the kudzu was washed away from my soul, along with a bit of the black rotted vegetation that gathers among the roots, vines and leaves. Not all, probably not what's needed, but enough to let a little hope shine through.

Thanks due. Thanks given.