SOL16 - 30/31I'm slicing with the Two Writing Teachers community for Day Thirty of Thirty-One of the Slice of Life Challenge in March. WE ARE ALMOST DONE! Congratulations to everyone who have made it this far!
Thank you Stacey, Tara, Anna, Betsy, Dana, Kathleen, Beth, and Deb.
gathering all day,
clouds touch tall buildings -
rain taps at windows
Linda Baie ©All Rights Reviewed
First the rain. . . (The lilies are a little mashed from the big snow.)
Then the birds sang!
When we had the blizzard last week, despite the problems, all celebrated the moisture. I remember growing up in Missouri, and playing in the rain when it was gentle, a welcome touch of cool on a hot summer day. I also remember that one spring it rained, no, poured, for numerous weekends in a row. We lived on a lake, and watched it rise higher and higher. We didn’t fear flooding, but others whose homes set lower did, and it was frightening. I also remember driving in a pouring rain and being petrified. I couldn't see where I was exactly, and I couldn't see to pull off safely either.
And then we moved to Colorado, what is called arid or semi-arid, and rain comes seldom, or not at all. We rely on the mountains’ winter snowfall to provide water for the spring and summer watering. We learn to plant drought-resistant plants, to xeriscape, using less water for the lawns, saving for gardens. No longer can we just push a plant’s roots into the ground as we did in Missouri and see it flourish, but must watch and nurture every seed or sprout.
I watch the news and wonder when others say it’s been raining for days; they hope for sun. And I read of countries and places where a well in a village community is a miracle. If you want to read of someone who has made such a difference, starting with the inspiration of A Long Walk To Water by Linda Sue Park, find Holly Mueller’s blog, Reading, Teaching, Learning about her class and community that have brought water to the Sudan for a long time. She hasn’t written lately, but posted on FB today that her class and community just hosted Salva Dut, the person about which the book is written.
Water is precious. Just ask the people in Flint, Michigan. Today, when I watched clouds move in and blot the sun, I remembered the forecast--rain! Sometimes clouds move in and no precipitation reaches the ground, termed virga. This time, it reached the ground, and for about thirty minutes, rain! And after, as you hear in the second video, the birds sang. It was dusk, and they possibly scrambled for quick evening meals while I scrambled to catch their song.
I hope you have such slices of life every day to fill you up!