This is the rain that takes us from spring to summer. Slow,
steady, soaking, continous…the plants, flowers, shrubs, turf and trees drinking
deeply and without stopping, water coursing through roots and stems and into
leaves like the living sap that fills butterfly wings as they expand and dry
after emerging from their cocoons.
Before you know it, the green smudge we so exalted just a
few short weeks ago will be casting enough shade that the short spring season (they
call plants ephemeral…what about spring itself) will be gone. A full canopy of
leaves will cover all, straining for exposure to light, spreading like a
glider’s webbing to catch every last bit.
I don’t mind the explosion…I tolerate the explosion—the
collateral damage that is weeds. It’s time.
