'Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.' Bob Marley
In it came from the west, muttering and grumbling as I watched anxiously, hoping it wouldn't do what it so often does: bypass us and go off to dump somewhere else. I've seen this happen so frequently this summer, as I've obsessively checked the radar online, that I've made myself believe the forecast only when I see the rain in the gauge. Seems topsy-turvy I know, but it's a bit of a safeguard against disappointment.
This time though, we were lucky. And when the rain fell, it fell thunderously, copiously, gloriously. Fat, splashy drops. Curtains of rain. Gutters flooded. Our water tank (not a very large one) overflowed onto our neighbour's side path and the lawn outside the back patio was drowned in water. And I remembered how we built a gravel path across the back of the garden a couple of years ago, because we couldn't walk across the lawn to the studio without getting our feet wet. We haven't had to use that path for a long time.
'It never rains but it pours' is an axiom that certainly applies to the weather in these parts. While we've been lucky to have two such weather events in ten days (delivering 60 mm or over two inches), a friend who lives only 30 km from me has received a paltry amount of rain. You just have to be lucky.
How immensely uplifting it is to venture out into the garden and see that exhausted plants are already invigorated. The lawn is greener too. All the tap watering that can be done is never as efficient and life-giving as the water that comes from the sky, and there is plenty of warm weather left for more growth to take place before the cold sets in and everything closes down for the winter.
After the excitement of rain, we are almost back in Summer mode again: a week of temperatures over 30 degrees awaits us. The overnight lows are a bit cooler though, we can pull a cotton blanket up over us at night, and the garden gets a rest and time to recover a bit before the next hot day.