RAIN

The rain, she comes, she comes, she comes.

She comes in sheets, in big drops, in buckets, in a steady pattering drum. She comes to make the grass green, turn the sky grey, darken the road to black, enliven the reds in the tree bark and turn the creek brown and muddy. She comes to make the frogs croak, the crickets and cicadas sing, the birds chortle and the chickens complain unhappily in their mucky pen. She comes to fill our tanks. To drench my gardens. To soak my fruit trees. To dampen my washing. To turn my dog smelly. The rain, she comes, she comes, she comes.

We knew she was on her way. We knew it wouldn't be long before she would be here. And not just because the weather lady said so. But because she sent before her a sticky heat that settled on our skins. A heat that was wet and moist. A heat that made our clothes stick to us, that sent the insects into a frenzy and made the ants build their homes higher. We knew she was coming because on sunset the cicadas were deafening and the crickets chirped all day long and the kookaburras laughed at noon and at seven in the morning and at three in afternoon and just before the first rays of light brightened the sky. We knew because we knew. Our knees, elbows, fingers, hips told us. Our old bones said rain was on the way. Our hair turned frizzy. The sweat gathered on our brow and the dog languished on the floor. We knew.

But we love the rain. Especially after long months of dry. A long dry that had turned the grass brown and dry and that had made the ground hard and cracked and the plants grey and droopy and the birds seem tired and it gave us air that was thin and prickly and a wind blows hot and we were all on edge and the dog's tongue just couldn't get any longer or the cows more mournful and it made the nights long so that the fan would never stop and we had all had enough and repeated time and time again "we need the rain". We love the rain. I love the rain.

I love the rain because. Because she fills my tanks. She cleans the earth. She freshens life. She makes it restful. She gives us a break. I love the rain because. Because here it isn't the norm. Because here the sun shines more than the rain falls. Because it softens the bright summer colours and gives our eyes a break. Because it changes what we hear, we see, we feel, we taste. It makes our skin feel clammy, our clothes damp, our hair frizzy. It makes the birds sing a different song and the plants jump out of their skins. I love the rain because it makes me want to stay in bed, but I never do. Instead I walk barefoot through the garden with an umbrella. Watch the clouds gather on the mountains. Listen for the rush of water down the gully. And contemplate the softness of the earth and the readiness of the garden for work.

And then the rain, she is gone. And she leaves behind muddy puddles and grass that needs mowing and weeds that are tall. And the heat moves in again. Our skin become sticky, our clothes uncomfortable, the dogs tongue longer. But the chickens are happy because the insects are plentiful and the garden seems to be smiling and the birds are positively buzzing with joy. And the clouds, they are gathering again over the mountains, out to sea. 

And the rain, she will come.