The sky is rolling clouds over the mountains, up from the valley and over our Rancho. The clouds are every shade of gray; deep metallic, reflective silver, and fluffed bolls of wool from black sheep. Looking north the sky is like a mild summer day, and in all other directions it is a shifting and rumbling sky that wants to burst forth in rain and thunder. We opened all the windows, and the door to the back yard. We are listening to the leaves rustling, and we can see the few crows and scrub jays that are still fleeing the storm. Thunder is conversing with the granite hills, and we are all in suspense.
Please don't let the thunder and lightening stay on the distant horizon, and pass us by. Please let it storm. Please let the heavy clouds open up and drop rain like a real shower. Let us get wet with rainwater, and let the flowers drip, and let the earth get fragrant and steamy. Please let it storm on our home, so we can know the pleasure of puddles, and the melody of water dancing on our roof and heads. Let the lightning shine, so the cats will run to the front door, and wet hens will run in all directions.
For this rain and thunder, for these clouds and stirring winds, we are truly grateful. My hair is plastered to my head, and my jeans are clinging to my legs. I danced with my sons. Thank you God for rain and sons, for shelter, and puddles. I feel good.
Our Rancho, a good home, in bright and stormy weather.
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