I was all set to write a post about this terrible mini-drought we’re going through, and how South Carolina just officially re-entered the lowest level drought, and how that makes me kind of dread living through the higher levels of drought again, and how my garden is just crying out for rain because a hose just really doesn’t replace rain and I don’t have a fancy irrigation system to fake Mother Nature’s goodness.
I uploaded two photos last night, one of the clouds that boil up from farther down in the valley, just over the lake. You can see them coming through a break in the trees in our backyard, and often you can feel them, too, in the wind’s brisker pace, the way the leaves hang straight down in the humidity, and the way something feels on my skin (F. suggested barometric pressure) in a way that I know presages rain.
Then comes the lightning, and the thunder, and debris starts to fly. There is a lot of small debris in a forest. It’s a kind of scary thrill for me at this point.
Yes, I love storms. Love them. Something in me resonates to the flash and the fury, the wildness and the drumbeat of the unknown danger.
But lately, I don’t care as much about the storm part as I do about the rain. I want it to come down, a steady rain, a long rain, a drenching, and hopefully one that comes down so slowly and gently that it has time to soak in and doesn’t cause another devastating flash flood in the garden. Some days, I’d even accept a little garden damage if we could just get a good soaking rain.
It never seems to happen, though, which is why the second photo I uploaded last night was this one:
A wild grape leaf on the edge of the forest, showing exactly how much rain we last got when the clouds passed through. Note that most of the leaf surface is still pitifully dry.
And keep in mind that most of my garden is situated either below or partially edged by the forest canopy, which blocks out a lot of that rain. It has to rain a lot more to reach the ground around my zucchini and Hungarian peppers, for instance.
It’s been so frustrating. However, I try and practice detachment and acceptance and just dole out a little extra love to the plants when I can. There is no use railing at the universe or complaining about the weather. So I keep deciding not to, even while I wish for rain.
I typed the title of this post last night after the photos finished loading, and then I went to bed.*
Here’s the weird part. Though there was no rain in the forecast, when I woke up this morning the ground was wet. And I mean nicely soaked, not waterlogged — and also not at the other end of the spectrum where the dust has been just barely tamped down by a few drops. And I slept right through it. It must have been a soft, gentle rain over a few hours’ time, for the ground to feel this way beneath my feet.
Wish granted?
It sounds a little crazy; right? I mean, I know I have mad manifesting skills, but this is over the top. Just type a post title and go to sleep, and let the universe handle it.
Huh. I think I should warn y’all, the title of my next post may be something like, “oh I wish oodles of well-paid freelance work would just tumble into my email box.”
Have you had any wishes granted lately?
*I often do this, letting the vague ideas marinate in me overnight, waiting to see what comes of it in the morning’s writing.
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Hi Meredith, thanks so much for your recent blog visit and comment! I have been such a laggard that I wondered if anyone was still out there.
So glad you got your wish! I wished for clouds today because it’s been too hot for me, but that’s kind of cheating since it was already in the forecast. I wished for my super-late-planted peas to come up, and they did, yesterday! We’ll see if I can keep them well enough watered to actually bear. I know they’re supposed to be planted around St. Patrick’s Day…
Hope you get the right combo of rain and sun to help your plants stay healthy! But you are right, no use in railing against the sky, it does what it does no matter what we wish, usually!
I can’t imagine living somewhere where peas could come up now. (In July?!) I’m in awe. I hope they do well, if only because that sounds so cool that you tried anyway. (We plant ours in February.)
You are so right, Karen, about the weather seeming to follow its own inscrutable path despite our wishes — and it being the better course to learn to accept whatever comes and go from there.
(Oh, and I think the summertime makes laggards of almost all garden bloggers — or at least slows us down.
)
Me too. I scribble a stream of words late at night. Then tomorrow I tweak them. Or slip that to the bottom of the pile, for later, much later.
Elephant’s Eye´s last blog ..Wildflowers at Cape Columbine
Diana, a lot of my scribbles do end up in draft, too, in no-man’s land, the nebulous slush pile of ideas that weren’t birthed yet.
And why is it that it is good to write a sketch and a headline the night before and hit it fresh in the morning? Hmm…
I’m glad it worked and that it rained for you. We are having a little here today, too.
Lynn´s last blog ..Careless- sailing and road trip
Glad you’re getting some, too, Lynn. I know y’all need it down there.
Can you come to Albuquerque and work your magic? We need rain!
Liza´s last blog ..Monday Weird and Wonderful Flowers of the Desert Southwest
I’m wishing for you to get some, Liza. Unfortunately, your results may vary.
Sorry you’re going through a dry time…
Hey Meredith, Could you send some of that magical rain thinking this direction? We had hard torrential rain showers over the weekend. It left the local river a bit higher and many plants broken and battered, but already today many of my plants (even sedum!) were wilting in the afternoon heat. We need a day of that good, soaking gentle rain too. (Of course, if anyone had told me a year ago — when it had been raining day and night for 6 weeks and I was trying to get organized to build an ark — that a year later I would be wishing for rain, I would have told them they were nuts!)
I’m sending wishes for oodles of well-paid and interesting free-lance work your way.
Jean´s last blog ..A-Spire-ing Plants
Oh, Jean, do I hear you! I’ve almost lost a few of my container-bound plants to the heat. June was just overkill for them, right as they were getting good and established.
I hope your garden gets soaked with a gentle, long-lasting rain — and maybe that will cool down the high temps, as well. Y’all have been enduring some abnormal weather, I think. 
Hang in there! (And I say it to the sedums, too.)
Wow, you and your computer have a direct link to Mother Nature! Do you think you could stop and then reverse global warming? I bet you would be awarded a Nobel prize! Don’t forget me when you’re famous
P.S. I was at my lottie today – yea, go me!
carrie´s last blog ..Invictus
Ah, Carrie, I so wish I could do that. What a marvelous thing, to be able to change global patterns of behavior on the strength of a heartfelt wish! I think it would have happened before now, actually, knowing the hearts of the activists I know, and how they are genuinely breaking over the loss of habitats and foreclosed options for real cuts in emissions by a meaningful date.
Mother Nature is locked into this journey with us and cannot cooperate with those heartfelt wishes until we change our ways as a group. Part of that, an important part, I hope, is learning to connect with this magical earth again, see it with new eyes, and see ourselves as one with it. Which is one reason why I’m so glad you got down to the lottie today! The other reason, of course, is that you needed it and it is so good for you, my friend.
Wow… you couldn’t wish up fame and riches for me, could you Meredith? Heck, even a never ending supply of Tim Tams would do!
Seriously though, it’s strange how things like that happen. I’m glad your garden got the kind of soaking that it needed after all. This is why I don’t have a garden; not only am I too lazy (I really am) but I also would be resorting to rain dances and black magic just to get my azaleas to azaleanate more. Is azaleanate a word?
I so wish I could, Tony. (Wait, too many wishes floating around here…) Although I had no idea what a Tim Tam was until I looked it up on Wikipedia. I’m guessing you do a bit more than your share of purchasing 1.7 packs per year (average per Australian)?
I’ve done a rain dance, but no black magic yet. I’ll let you know if and when the time comes.
Coining new words is important creative work!
Meredith, your photos are beautiful and I love your blog. I wish I had found you earlier so I could make the “Focus” journey with you. I’ll have to catch up. What a beautiful idea for the year. Many thanks,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth Barrow´s last blog ..The July Harvest
Welcome, Elizabeth! I’m glad to know you stopped by.
I think I’ll probably do a post soon in which I give the links to older focus posts, just to make it easy. You can also use the search box in the upper right-hand corner, just beneath the blog title, and type in “focus” — or indeed, any topic you’re curious to see if I’ve written about.
lol @ Tony and the Tim Tams. My daughter was over the moon happy when they started carrying them here in Ontario Canada after she became seriously addicted to them when she was living in Australia.
Meredith, the universe is listening and isn’t that a wonderful thing? I’m glad you got some ground soaking gentle rain which I always think is the kindest of rains. We finally got some rain, too, after a crazy hot and humid run of days that left everything dry and sad looking. I swear I heard the plants sighing with happiness.
I think you should definitely try a few more blog titles and see what happens. It certainly can’t hurt, can it?
Talon´s last blog ..One Stop Poetry
Oh, Talon, you’re right. The universe is always listening, and I never doubt that — but somehow I have trouble believing it’s quite so simple. Still, you might be right about writing a few more headlines. It definitely couldn’t hurt.
I love the idea of rain being kind. It really can be.
I always knew blogging had a mystical power attached to it and you have now proven this theory. On a more serious note, I am sincerely glad you received rain in your dry parts. We have been seriously lacking in our area as well.
Amber´s last blog ..Friday Night Awesomeness
There is something mystical about blogging, Amber! Proof is in the raindrops?
Thank you for the good wishes and gladness for our land. I send the same your way. Oh, I wish it would rain down on Amber’s lovely garden… (hint, hint
)
Hee. Feel free to think, “I wish the perfect reiki clients would discover Elizabeth.”
Yay! I’m so glad you got that much-needed rain. We had the odd sprinkle today too. Odd because we’re coming off a record-breaking hot stretch and today was about 30 degrees cooler than yesterday. And then it sprinkled a tiny bit. Crazy.
elizabeth´s last blog ..scenes from the market
Okay, Elizabeth. I actually said it out loud just now. Let’s see what happens. You deserve to have a thriving reiki practice.
30 degrees difference in two days! Wow. Enjoy the cool. We’ve cooled down considerably since our June highs, but it’s still pretty hot out there — although now at least it’s in normal range for this time of year!
I was looking at your post this morning in a stoop-per from working all night and I plum forget to post sorry.
I’m bad
I was setting here thinking about the two guys on the street corner waiting on a bus.
The first guy was praying the bus would show up because he was late for work. “Please God I’m running late and one more time and the boss said he would fire me. So for just this ones could you make the bus come early? Oh please God I can’t be last. This will be the last I ask you for anything.”
The Other guy was praying the bus would not get there because his mother-in-law was there on vacation for a week and staying in the guess bedroom. “God if she nags me one more time I’ll go mad. Please can’t you have the bus break down or something so I can miss the train? Please God you know what she’s like.”
God was up in heaven and being the loving God he is, he answered both of their prayers. He had the bus driver loss control and run over them.
Sorry to hear about getting just a little rain.
I wonder if was that lady down at the water department was praying. “God I’m trying to make it on my own now. You know Jack run off with that… Sorry God I know I can’t be saying that word when I’m praying but you know what I was thinking. After he up and left me with the 12 kids and all. I need this job, could you get people to use more water so they won’t lay me off.”
God being the loving God he is, he answered both prayers.
P.S. watch out for buses.
desk49´s last blog ..Ashes
Hilarious, Ellis! I’ll be on the lookout for buses now, for sure.
There’s something else in that joke I needed to hear today, too, Ellis, about resisting our circumstances and complaining. Thank you so much for sharing.
And how wonderfully you saw the situation through a bigger perspective. I do know for a fact that no one’s about to lose their job down at the water department in this town: it’s such a little place that I already know someone who’s friends with one of the ladies there.
There’s only three of the total, plus a girl who comes in to do some part-time secretarial work, and they all work in the old-fashioned city hall! (Can you believe we are a tiny enough town that water, electricity and trash are all handled by the town and not by private companies? No competition here! But also, a little more job security.)
The best storm I’ve even been in was last year, Typhoon Ketsana in Asia. It was a reminder of the brutal strength of nature. I’ve got some cracking video of it (yes, I got drunk and went out to film it while everyone took shelter – bloody idiot). It kind of lost its sparkle when we found out how many people had died afterwards, but it was exciting, properly exciting!
The Idiot Gardener´s last blog ..A leper cant change his socks
Oh, I bet it was properly exciting, IG. I’ve never witnessed a typhoon, so I’m a little envious now. And of course you went outside in it. There was a memorable incident in my adolescence when I went outside just to get a closer look at the tornado bearing down on a nearby neighborhood. I’ll never forget the green and purple sky.
Not too bright; are we?
We have been rainless for weeks in the northeast and unusually hot, and I am getting tenser and tenser every day as I survey all the new trees I am tending (birches and pin oaks have dropped leaves, the ash trees are crispy, the tuliptree went into autumn color, and a lovely katsura went pffft). Your post has calmed me, so beautifully written, and the photos as always are beautiful.
I need to practice the detachment and acceptance you write about. Today I will try.
Laurrie´s last blog ..Lust and Envy
Oh, Laurrie, that is so hard. My sister went on tree patrol with a volunteer organization in Atlanta during the major drought a couple of years ago, and I remember how disheartening it was, and how tired she was from hauling gallons and gallons of water to try and feed them.
I wish for Laurrie to get rain, serious rain, soaking, restorative rain, rain to bless the tulip tree and the ashes, the birches and pin oaks. Let it come!
And now we’ll both practice detachment. It’s better that way.
Meredith,
We are experiencing a drought in the NY area as well. Oh, how I miss the rain too! You site is beautiful. You are a really good photographer!
I had not realized so many parts of the country are experiencing drought, Angela. I hope it rains down on NY, too.
Thank you for the compliments — and welcome to the site. Glad you could visit!
Meredith — YEAH for the rain gods and your title for this post:~)
Not long ago, we had a summer like what you described. It was terrible. I’m so used to having our regular afternoon thunderstorms with lots of rain, that it really freaked me out. Everything seemed so dry and you are right that watering just doesn’t quite do it.
Fortunately, like you, the rain eventually began to fall again:~)
I love the picture of the bee — it’s amazing!
Sara´s last blog ..Story Photo- The selection is…
Sara, I love those afternoon thunderstorms. For me, they are the essence of summer. Well, that and heat lightning and cicadas and lightning bugs and ripe tomatoes and watermelon and sundresses and cookouts and hummingbirds…
I went through one of the worst droughts Georgia has ever recorded a few years ago. I was growing my garden on a rooftop terrace in sight of the skyscrapers of Atlanta, and had to carry water up the stairs, gallon by gallon, to my containers. I got really strong arms that summer. Yet still, almost everything died. It was rough. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.
Glad you like that header shot.
Hmm…I’m quite impressed with your manifesting skills–and let’s hope they can bring that freelance work flooding in. (Maybe it will rub off on me!) I love storms, too, especially wind. There’s something in me that gets excited by the restlessness of wind.
We just returned from a week at a lake house in GA (hence my absence from blogging and commenting), and one evening we watched the surface of the lake dimple and ripple toward us, and, thinking it was rain, began to gather up all our towels and books and other acoutrements. Just before the ripples reached the dock, we found it was wind, not rain, pouring across the lake! Wind that blew towels and empty cans and life preservers into the lake and practically blew us off the dock! We scrambled to retrieve our stuff, then stood on the dock facing the wind–wow. It was awesome!
Kathy´s last blog ..Baby Pictures!
It’s strange to say, but since I wrote that piece I landed a large assignment that will keep me busy for a while. On the other hand, I’m not that surprised because I do feel the Universe is taking care of me and the details even when I can’t figure out which end is up sometimes.
The wind is the breath of the Earth, I like to think. That sounds like such an amazing experience in Georgia, Kathy. I’m glad you and your family are safe and that you got to witness such a dramatic demonstration of Nature’s exhilaration, playfulness, and power.