The other night I fell asleep to the sound of rain.
I’ve never been a very sound sleeper, but there is nothing more comforting, nothing that lulls me to sleep like the sound of rain on my roof.
I can’t figure out why rain is so relaxing and comforting. It must have something to do with being a gardener. I know that without rain my garden would be very sad indeed, not to mention that without it we’d all be dead.
I know the miracle of rain.
Our little part of the world has been in a drought for two or three years, and my neighbors who have inhabited these hills for 20 to 40 years tell me that there used to be a lot more water even during drought years. They say there used to be streams that trickled all through the summer and small bodies of water year ‘round—but not any more.
We have had the mildest winter I can remember. The sky has been clear and blue. We had the largest full moon there will be this year. We even had a week and a half this January where the temperatures were in the mid-seventies.
Even though the weather has been gorgeous, I would love to see more rain in the forecast, because six months from now water will be at a premium.