Let me take you back a few days, to Sunday morning at the bach. I awoke to an unexpected, and almost unfamiliar sound. Could it be . . . ?
Could it be . . . . . RAIN?
It was. Drops settled like jewels on the grateful garden plants. The gentle shower turned the invisible visible . . .
and created magic in the space between verandah posts.
Yes, rain had fallen —not for very long, and not enough to fill the tank —but without a doubt it had fallen. Did I dream this event? The paving stones, the spiders and the tomatoes all say no. Those clouds, under whose cover I walked only the day before, had at last delivered something.
It wasn’t long before the fierce sun returned and the land was dry again. Three provinces are now in the process of being declared drought zones. The land is panting for moisture, up and down the north island.
So all I can say is – there was a tiny change, and I NOTICED. To notice is to encourage, it is said. I noticed and appreciated. Every little bit helps. Thank you clouds.