A Deep River Year
July 16,  2014

“Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day!”  Children have been singing that old chant for hundreds of years, especially on summer days when they wanted to  be outside playing.  Most of us still wish for sunny days, and these are often the setting for the happiest days of our lives.   But rain, too, is good and necessary.   The peppers in our garden have been drooping and even the morning glories climbing the fence have been limp as they wait for rain after a long stretch of dry weather.  By this time in July, too, the grass in a hundred lawns is looking brown and thirsty.  So it is as if the world was uttering a long, sweet, “Aaaah!” when yesterday it rained at last. 

In the book The Outermost House, Henry Beston’s classic description of a year spent in a spare cabin amid the sand dunes of Cape Cod, he notes that there are “three great elemental sounds in nature”:  the sound of rain, the sound of wind in the trees, and the sound of the ocean on the beach.     There is something wondrous about the sound of approaching rain:  the whisper in the treetops on a nearby hill, the swish of car tires passing on the street, the blip of drops hitting the water of the creek or the pond around the corner.   Last night we slept to the patter of rain against the window glass, a rhythmic, sweet sound that reminds us of a primal truth:  that rain is life.   We, earth creatures, are mostly water.   And we live on the only planet yet discovered in a vast and lonely universe that is wet.

Sometimes the wetness is annoying.   As a matter of fact, I was a block away from home walking our dogs when the rains began.   It came as sheets of heavy, soaking rain, and by the time we got home, we were wet and soaked, too.   The dogs had a good shake in the kitchen, and I changed into dry clothes.     But this morning, in shorts and bare feet, I resisted the temptation to run for cover.   I felt the wet grass between my toes, savored the cool leaves brushing against my legs and splattering my shirt and pants, laughed at the rivulets running down my face.     I was alive with summer rain.

Summer Rain

I am wet with life,
Slippery as morning.
I walk through a green world
Where the most precious of gifts
Falls from the sky.
The earth drinks deeply
Of such goodness
As something like a song
Ripples through the tall trees.
We wish the summer rain away,
Seek shelter, wait for sun.
When we could walk uncovered,
Dripping with joy
And drenched with glory.
O sweet rain,
Moisten the dry earth.
Soften my thirsty heart.
Be gentle!   Be life!

--Timothy Haut, July 16,  2014