I first heard it at the point where the road bends and dips - the soft gurgling of running water. When was the last time I heard that music out here? I can't remember. I'm sure I took it for granted at the time, not realizing I wouldn't hear it again for months and months.
Nestled between two hills above the road, there's a pond that captures the rain. The water seeps downhill to this low spot, passes under the road through a culvert Tom installed (so we didn't have to drive through the creek), follows a rocky creek bed and finally joins Long Hollow Creek - the one that crosses through our property...or at least used to cross through before the arrival of the drought and the dam. Time, and more rain, will tell whether or not we still have a creek running behind our house.
Max is a water dog; he made a beeline for a cool pool in the woods several feet downstream from where the water runs under the road. Everything is greener. Flowers bloom, awakened by the rain, coaxed by sunshine and 90 degree temperatures.
Again, it amazes me and inspires me that the earth can tuck itself in like that, stubbornly hanging on, biding its time, having faith that the drought would eventually end. Now it's time to celebrate and give thanks.
During my days of drought, I'll try to remember the earth, its faith and this celebration.
"Come forth into the light of things; Let Nature be your teacher." (William Wordsworth)
