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.