Summer Longing

It’s the peak of summer – the heart of the season – yet the summer has seemed old to me, and tired. The leaves already dulled by the barrage of heat. For weeks the lack of rain has allowed the dust to gather on roadside foliage. I have found myself spiritually parched, longing for the humid heat to be replaced by drenching rain. I want the sheen back on the leaves.

Yesterday, I took my camera with me to the park, hoping that having a conscious eye would lead me to beauty. It isn’t the best time of year for flowers; I mean the kind that pop out pretty much on their own. But I did find bright orange trumpet vine, and got close enough to be nourished by its strangeness and its color. I was pleased to discover a utility pole overrun by the vine with clusters of blooms dangling luxuriantly from the dense tangled mass at the top. I shot it, though my little camera could not do it justice. I moved on to the nearby Acacia bush and found pregnant pods in green and brown. Their plump seeds swelled the thin skin of their casing in a promising way.  The future of the acacia is ensured. The summer seemed slightly less tired as I focused my lens and my psyche on persevering nature.

Last night came the storm and the drenching rain, so sudden and fierce that the answer to my prayer propelled me from my bed and down the stairs to huddle with my equally nervous dogs in the downstairs hallway. It was some time before I returned to my bed for much needed sleep, and even then Music, my older dog, sought comfort in his usual fashion by standing on my body or lying across it, so not much sleep.

In the morning, the sheen was back on the leaves, and in the park the orange of the trumpet vine was even brighter with drops of water still clinging to its tender blossoms. I can almost imagine a fairy tilting a leaf to drink her fill.

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