It was been so hot and uncomfortable lately here in Portland. We aren’t at 117 degrees anymore, but consistent 90s and no rain for 50 longs days has made everything very forlorn.
So imagine our joy when we awoke Friday morning to RAIN!!! Glorious, cool, nurturing rain. I opened the windows and sat for a long time, just smelling it. The word for that smell of rain after a dry spell is “PETRICHOR” and is one of my favorite smells.
But after a while, I wanted to get out in it. To feel the splashes on my face and hear the cars whizz by on wet streets, to hear the flowers singing with gratitude. So out I went, and I was not disappointed.
Drops sat like jewels on our hostas and dangled from the birch leaves.
They drooped off the daisy petals as though they were happily sweating dancers.
They turned spider webs in sparkling mysteries.
They made the dusty August colors brighter.
And they let us know God has not forgotten us.