Summer Rain

It came like a gift at dusk, like some whispered promise fulfilled. All day the air had felt oddly tropical. Tattered rags of clouds festooned the sky, and there was a pale smudge of rainbow above the sea. We were in the house when suddenly we heard it drumming upon the roof and splashing steadily on the leaves of all the trees, an unexpected percussion band, and through the open window, we smelled it – rain.

I don’t recall it ever raining in July around here; Monte tells me it does happen, but it’s unusual. For me, summer rain has always been something I remember from the East coast. In any case, its sweetness rushed in and filled us with delight, and in the course of the night there were a series of such rainfalls passing through, occasionally accompanied by thunder and lightening. In the morning, things were puddled and refreshed. I went outside  and sighed.

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