I’m from the south and understand a deluge,
But I live in the Pacific NW; I also understand the dew.
We may be known as a wet place. That’s okay.
There’s something special about rain…it helps things grow.
In Houston, the Bayou City, the rains pound across the region.
Rivers swell, overwhelm their banks, and suddenly it’s over.
Flooding everywhere. I remember once very well. It rained so much,
Living close to the Gulf, the rain rolls in and out like the tide.
Between work and home, I drove my way, reading the tide charts.
Watermarks in downtown Houston were a yard or more up each building.
The next few verses are inspired by AI
In the hush of morning, when the world stirs slowly,
The gentle rain tiptoes, a soft-spoken woe.
It weaves through leaves, a silken thread,
An artist’s brush on the canvas of day spread.
Each drop, a messenger from the gray-lit sky,
Carries secrets of renewal as it passes by.
It kisses parched earth, a lover’s touch,
Awakening dormant seeds, life’s gentle clutch.
Let the gentle rain fall. My balm for weary hours,
Suggests an elixir for winter’s faded flowers.
Oh, a gentle wash of sorrows, a cleansing for the soul.
It reminds us that healing arrives… one drop by quiet drop.
Side Notes
My hobbling is becoming worse. It’s taking longer to do anything except the mowing, which I enjoy.
I mowed about three acres yesterday. The dogs were constantly underfoot, running and interfering but enjoying the constant trip around the yard. On the one hand, I think they wanted to be with me. Flip that hand, and I think they hoped I would stir up a rabbit or something else to chase.
Gunny with his rocks, Chewey with her speed, Bear stays as close as he dares to the tractor that spits grass and gravel to the side. Byrd? She keeps looking for an opening to share that big orange ball so I can pick it up when passing with the chucker I kept with me.
The dogs next door and the cows in the pasture, who wandered near the fence, constantly entertained them. The dogs charged the fence, barking, and the cows wisely stood their ground. Both sides? They knew the fence.
I put up some new coral fencing from the barn to the house. It’s not finished. I need six more feet to give me safe and temporary access while my foot recovers from surgery.
Through the lifting, dragging, and setting up, I paused, thinking. I do this often. There’s no young man to help me. I’m doing life by myself. But it’s different than when I was that young man. I did a lot: mowing, digging, building, carrying, and trucking life from this spot to that spot to help my elders.
Did I go wrong? Moving far away. Is no one living close by? Guess I’ve been a loner too long.
Crutches ordered. The elevated foot platform arrives today—medicine in hand. Close the day on Friday, for Saturday is well planned. My bride has some new ideas. A recliner will be easier for recovery. “The Cannery,” here we come! Dry Cleaning. Lunch out.
The surgery is next Tuesday… I’m still struggling with a To Do list. Oh, well. I might as well light it up with a match. That list will never get done.
See then that you walk circumspectly,
not as fools but as wise,
redeeming the time,
because the days are evil.
(Ephesians 5:15-16 NKJV)
Thank you for reading.
Please share with others.
It helps me get my book written!
(Below, you may find other topics similar to this one. Please read on!)