We returned to rain. As much as I enjoyed New York City, visiting museums, meeting lots of interesting people (including my daughter) and going to the opera, all of which felt good for the soul, I’m happy to return home, even with rain here to greet us. I walked around in the rain this morning and I felt everything had changed around me, and this was my chance to notice it.
We’ve not had enough rain. Last year, I had recorded 18.92 inches of rain already, compared to 5.38 inches this year to date. The problem was January, which had only .92 this year, compared to 9.15 inches last year. The current storm has produced 2.55 inches (as of 10 am on Monday) and so far in February, we’ve had 4.46 inches of rain. We need more days like this.
The rain is beautiful, creating its own world in so many ways. The rhythm of rain falling on the roof is serene, one that recalls for me afternoons with winter rains in LA and napping as a child. The rain wants in.
The trees upon the rim of hills are whitening, blurred through mist, merging with the sky. The pasture is spongy under foot; the tracks created by a horse have become errant strokes of mud across the nibbled grass.
The cabbage plants, like small children not seen in a while, have really grown up while I was gone. They seem sturdy, ready to come on. On rainy days, there is less of a gap between the high and low temperatures, today running between 48 and 44 degrees. On February 2nd, a day when we had no rain, the high was 67 degrees and the low was 32. My guess is cabbage prefers rainy days.
Garlic is also doing well. Like onions, it seems to grow so gradually over the winter that I wonder if it’s going to survive. Then it starts coming on, growing faster as spring closes in.
Some of the shrubs have begun to bud. I saw this newly emerging leaf on my walk. How it stands out, small but aspirational, extending itself like a relaxing hand against the grey, angular sky.