I put the last of my first batch of wildflowers in the ground –
a half dozen showy goldenrod and a pair of purple coneflowers.
I finished my first mowing, and then I prayed for rain.
Rain finally does come, with a lot of fanfare from the local TV
stations and tornado sirens blaring, but there is almost no wind
where we are, just straight rain, not too heavy, but heavy enough.
It only lasts an hour, but we get almost an inch.
The temperature drops from the mid 80s to the mid 60s. There’s a
strange sky afterwards – white bubbles of clouds, then an eerie
yellow-orange light that makes the ground glow red, and then it’s
over. Water drips, frogs sing.