Rain. “Finally,” chirps a robin hiding in the maple outside my window. Drops hit the wide leaves, split and fall in splinters to the delighted earth. It’s been dry. So dry, there’s been a province-wide ban on burning. No joking around campfire flames. No poking logs with a stick and watching sparks drift till they disappear.
Today, raindrops kiss the earth with blessings. They kiss on both cheeks. Bless you. Bless you. Ahhh sighs the earth, “I thought I’d never see you again.” Deep in forested hills on the north side of the city dangerous kindling threatens to burst into flame. One spark could ignite hundreds of wooded acres and claim small villages.
Today’s rain dampens fire’s destructive plans. It seeps through layers of pine needles and leaves into dry compost. Rain washes dust from the trees. They sparkle in green health as if an ambitious cleaning lady has scrubbed and polished them.
A thirsty earth drinks long and deep. Nature and humanity breathe a relieved sigh. Breezes from open windows blow papers loose from the table top. Welcome winds chase stale odors through screens and deposit fresh smells in every room. Rain is a gift from God.
He bestows rain on the earth; he sends water upon the countryside (Job 5:10)