07.31.2013
It hasn't rained in days. Thirty-three or thirty-seven or maybe more -- I know it hasn't rained all month.
The lawns look like they've been thrown in with the whites and bleached all over, except for a few splotches of green. Everything is so dry and brittle and I feel that way, too. If someone bumped into me, I might lose a finger or an ear or at least bits of my hair. I am dry and tired. I need rain.
When I water the tomatoes and snapdragons, I let the hose pass over my shoes and the tops of my feet. Then I walk around the sharp grass with wet shoes, imagining they are puddles.
It has been so long since I saw a puddle, much less jumped in one. Oh! to plop heavy into a soggy puddle of mud! To feel little splatters of wet reach up to my knees and my hands! No one else seems to miss the clouds or the rain or the wet. Everyone is barbecuing and wearing shorts and ignoring the brown lawns. The whole town is tan and smiling.
But I think I might trade my whole garden of sun-ripened tomatoes for just one mud puddle day.
08.02.2013
It rained today! Oh, it rained today! I can hardly believe it: it rained today!
It was hardly a downpour -- it was barely a sprinkle. But the clouds covered the town and I spent the day in the shade, hidden from the sun. This morning, I walked through the grey and let the rain fall on my hair. I let the rain splash on the tops of my feet and wash away the dust on my sandals. I stepped in every little puddle I found.
The lawns are still bleached brown, and the flowers still look tired, but the air smells like wet sidewalks and I feel just a little bit wetter.
