I never complain about the rain. Even when it is pouring into my basement because I forgot to call the gutter guy in October to have the downspouts unclogged of a year's accumulation of wind-borne detritus. I don't complain when a small sojourn into the backyard results in a 5 lb hunk of wet adobe stuck to my shoe soles. I don't mind that the compost is soggy and the shed is damp. I finally learned to dump shredded redwood bark on the slippery slopes of dirt parths and clover lawn; no more complaints about sodden, deadly excursions to empty the compost bucket. The rain is lovely. The smell of wet dirt is lovely. After years of piling orange skins, old parsley, weeds, dead tomato plants in the compost, and mixing the crumbly compost loam into my beds of adobe there is a spongy spring to the soil now as it swells with winter rain. Still adobe--clumpy, grey-flecked, worm-holed--but finer, softer, more receptive of roots and friendly microbes.
The garden is bare. Roses are leafless, trees naked, the bulbs not yet in motion. Rain drops glint in the greyness, drip from the roof eaves. Welcome, rain.
Posted by briggs at January 9, 2004 3:24 PM