It rained.

We’ve been waiting for it a rather long time. No shocking records set here: there have indeed been worse droughts in history, not just in the fabled devastation of those parts of the world we in the United States tend to think of ever after as expanses of desert and the lost worlds of the permanently starved and impoverished, but even in the annals of the region here, where there have been longer and more immediately cruel periods of dry-roasting. Endless iterations of “hot enough for ya?” aside, there are certainly serious consequences already being seen and felt from the current drought: the desiccated crops, the herds being thinned or entirely liquidated, and yes, farms and ranches closing. So many aspects of the damage will only be seen and felt over a very long stretch to follow.

Now, it has rained.

Desert. Dessert.

It hasn’t rained a whole lot. There’s nothing “cured” in a true drought by a couple of sparkling, sprinkly moments of respite. Much remains to be salved and salvaged and, hopefully, soaked–but not too much, I beg you. An excess of water is so clearly as dangerous and terrible as being horrifically parched, and following the remaking of the region into a vast basin of concrete, there’s plenty of danger that whatever rain does come will be unable to find a safe way into its intended locales.

But still, there’s that welcome urge to join the sky in a little cathartic crying when the unwilling skies finally relent and shower a little love on us. I am ever so glad and grateful that our Gaia, our lovely Mother Nature, has seen fit to grant us this kindness and am ever hopeful of still more. Call me a cry-eyed optimist.

Rain, love, hope . . .

Be ever with us!