Waiting for rain

Photo: Alon (Creative Commons Flickr)

I so wanted to be laughing in the rain like this. But it was no, no, nothing. Photo: Alon (Creative Commons Flickr)

In my part of Oregon summers are sunny. After the constant drizzle of late fall / winter / early spring, this is a welcome joy. Ah, but this year summer began in May, and we have had very little rain since.

Yesterday the forecast said thunderstorms, 80%. O happy day! We almost never have thunderstorms! As I worked through my manuscript edits, I left my window open. Just like the California girl that I am, I kept my ears tuned for that “rhythm of the falling rain.”


Water the garden? Naw. Why haul out the hose when free water was coming? So the percentage dropped to 60%, then 48%, no big deal.

See, I am adept at waiting. “Good things come to those who wait” could be my life motto. Except at the train station when I’m late. Or where there’s a deadline.

What’s that you say? Waiting can be a mask for laziness? Or (gasp) procrastination? No, it’s called prudence. That’s it, I was being prudent. And optimistic too.

A breeze whipped up, I heard droplets on leaves. And then that wondrous scent of rain on dry grass, a wave of it. At last!

Ever hopeful, I waited for the downpour. Or even drizzle. Nothing. A faint sound of distant thunder rumbled. (Unless it was our neighbor moving his trash can!) That was it, our big event, a handful of stray drops. The storm passed Beaverton by. The weekly forecast now shows only sunny icons, average temperature 83 degrees. Not a scrap of rain. Rats.

So today I’m not waiting. I will haul out that garden hose, and I will continue with manuscript edits. Even though I’ve written myself into a corner, even though I’ve found continuity errors, I will keep at it. Because sometimes it does not pay to wait.


7 thoughts on “Waiting for rain

  1. Gayle Mills

    I love the smell of rain when it first falls to the earth. http://www.livescience.com/37648-good-smells-rain-petrichor.html

    I love the way the rain brings life back to dry dirt, brittle grass, and wilting plants.

    I’m always reminded that He is the living water, and when we’ve tasted that water, we’ll never thirst again.

    I’m sorry you were disappointed, Laura. Two years ago, we were living through the same “exceptional drought” conditions that California is experiencing now. Even a white cloud teased the thought of rain. And then one day, the sky darkened, and the rain fell, replenishing ponds and streams, refilling the aquifer, Rain — life-sustaining rain. Truly a gift from God.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Laura Hile

      Most of the year we do not have the smell of rain here because it’s already damp. I love that scent when it comes after a dry spell. Ahhh.

      California is in a bad way, more so than I have ever seen. The population has mushroomed over the last 30 years, while the water supply has remained the same or diminished. A formula for disaster.


  2. Jennifer Redlarczyk

    Hey Laura! I always say “baby steps.” Just hang in there and little by little that manuscript will be finished. I wish I could give you some of our rain. We had a downpour here in Indiana this afternoon. Have a nice weekend. Jen Red

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Laura Hile

      Jen,that’s what I tell myself: “baby steps.” 🙂 The rain will be with us soon enough, perhaps as early as the middle of September. Then we sigh and wish for sun.

      We Oregonians expect perfect weather, alas.

      Thanks so much for stopping by.


      1. Susan Kaye

        Out my way we got some actual, bona fide rain. Selah doesn’t like wet grass and there was enough she wouldn’t go outside without her shoes later in the day. Though, it didn’t have the usual rain smell. We are surrounded by dry clover fields and it smelled like a huge bowl of cereal. Very strange.

        Liked by 2 people

  3. Robin Helm

    Your post reminds me of one of my favorite poems.


    I saw God wash the world last night
    With His sweet showers on high;
    And then when morning came
    I saw him hang it out to dry.

    He washed each slender blade of grass
    And every trembling tree;
    He flung his showers against the hills
    And swept the rolling sea.

    The white rose is a deeper white;
    The red, a richer red
    Since Gold washed every fragrant face
    And put them all to bed.

    There’s not a bird, there’s not a bee
    That wings along the way,
    But is a cleaner bird and bee
    Than it was yesterday.

    I saw God wash the world last night;
    Ah, would He had washed me
    As clean of all my dust and dirt
    As that old white birch tree!

    [Title poem of Bill’s first book of collected verses, I Saw God Wash The World, dedicated to his daughter Betty on her graduation from Smith College in 1934. This was Bill Stidger’s most celebrated poem.]

    Liked by 2 people


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