Falling Water

Despite cooler temperatures on Sunday this little guy was enjoying water play at the French Regional Park playground

Yesterday morning I went over to French Regional Park to take a walk. There were so many families out and about, walking, watching children play on the playground, and sitting on park benches. I wanted to say “Happy Father’s Day” to every guy I saw patiently playing or walking with children.

The weather forecast predicted rain all day yesterday, but there was more time when the rain was not falling than when it was falling. I was glad that families got to celebrate Father’s Day outside in nature.

At about 4 pm when we were getting ready to head to our youngest daughter’s house the skies opened and heavy rain pummeled everything in sight. Falling water everywhere! Despite the heavy rain we headed out, thinking that it would not last long. As we drove, traffic slowed to a crawl because you simply could not see the road ahead of you. The noise of the rain on the roof of our car was deafening. The awesome downpour went on for about 15 minutes and then gradually slowed and stopped.

By the time we reached our daughter’s house in Bloomington only a few sprinkles fell on us. Mother nature is amazing sometimes in her fierceness and then at other times with her gentle beauty.

This morning on my walk I noticed that the grass is already re-greening where it had begun to turn brown. The whole world feels new this morning, renewed and refreshed by rain.

With this morning’s cool temperatures I felt like I do when I’m up north in Minnesota in the summertime when brisk cool temperatures are often felt at the beginning of each day.

And as I often do, I found a poem by Mary Oliver today about the rain…

Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me

Last night

the rain

spoke to me

slowly, saying,

what joy

to come falling

out of the brisk cloud,

to be happy again

in a new way

on the earth!

That’s what it said

as it dropped,

smelling of iron,

and vanished

like a dream of the ocean

into the branches

and the grass below.

Then it was over.

The sky cleared.

I was standing

under a tree.

The tree was a tree

with happy leaves,

and I was myself,

and there were stars in the sky

that were also themselves

at the moment

at which moment

my right hand

was holding my left hand

which was holding the tree

which was filled with stars

and the soft rain –

imagine! imagine!

the long and wondrous journeys

still to be ours.

— Mary Oliver