Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for the smell of rain.
Traditionally, March and April are our wettest months. Except for last year and, now, this year. March has been dry as a bone. My gardens are not yet thirsty, but they will soon be unless the spring storms materialize. I'm not ready to water the landscape with city water.
The weather people report that a major storm system has started its slow journey to our region. By early afternoon, the front moves in. The morning's clear blue skies grow gray and cloudy. I take T and his friend, Sage, to the park early. Just in case. I don't like walking in the rain with two soggy canines.
Dark, heavy clouds gather at dusk. We lose sunlight quickly. The winds die down.
I think I smell rain.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
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