Tag: rain

Manna from heaven

It has rained steadily all night and day. Not the heavy torrential type of rain but the soft, calming mizzle that settles on gently on leaves. I woke to the sound of rain pittering on the window and instinctively pulled the blanket around my shoulder. Cozy and snug, I lay listening to that blessed sound, so tranquil and serene.

The past couple of months have been savagely hot and dry. Scorched earth comes to mind. Burnt and withered plants have not survived the heat or ferocious winds. I have pulled out many of them and have limited pot plants on the balcony to four survivors. I had to get used to walking on tufts of grass that crunched underfoot, strangely reminiscent of snow. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine being rugged up and walking along snow covered paths in Europe. Then as I opened my eyes all I could see was tufts of brown baked native grasses stretching ahead of me.

I had been watering a small section along the side of my house where I planted citrus trees. This little patch of green is where grass and weeds have thrived over the past couple of months. As the long dry and heat persisted, I began to notice kangaroo scat close to the trees I had been watering. There hadn’t been much for them to graze lately.

The rain has been a blessing. When I walked the dog, people commented on how wonderful it was to have everything smelling so fresh. No-one grumbled about getting wet. The heady smell of eucalypts was what I noticed first. The rain releases the plant oils together with organic matter in the soil to give that wonderful fresh slightly lemony smell. I took deep breaths, letting the cleansing aroma fill my lungs.

Then the sound of frogs bouncing off the pond like popcorn. I hadn’t heard any for weeks! Even the lone shag on a dead branch overhanging the water seemed to be more alive. Muted birdsong could be heard as they came out looking for worms. A slight drizzle never stopped a hungry bird from foraging!

At first, the paths were filled with puddles as the compacted earth was unable to absorb the water. As the day progressed, the ground became softer and the rain began to seep in more easily. By day two, everything looked refreshed like a house after a spring clean. The dust that had settled everywhere has been scrubbed away. Sometimes, all we need is these small acts of grace.

Potholes

Rain has washed away whole sections of country roads. Wherever I look there are potholes, thoroughfares which are no longer passable and ‘rough surface’ signs to alert drivers to the obvious. I recently punctured a tyre as I plunged into a hole much deeper than anticipated and last Thursday, a loose rock hit my windscreen leaving it with a sizable crack.

I have had ample opportunity to ponder the pothole, both real and figurative, as I white-knuckle clench the steering wheel. There have certainly been some rough rides. Last week as I drove along a dark country highway, trying to avoid both kangaroos and potholes, I suddenly found myself going over a flooded roadway. I could hear the safety ads loud and clear, ‘Do not enter floodwaters’ but it was too late. I was already deep in the water and accelerating out. The sun had dropped behind the horizon, and I was left to navigate unfamiliar, rugged roads at night.

While potholes are perilous for travellers, I find solace in the fact that we haven’t been able to bend nature to our will altogether. In the great battle between the elements and bitumen, the elements win every time.

And as I navigate the great and small potholes in my life, I draw some lessons from driving along country roads. If I am lucky to see the pothole ahead, I can always move over to the other side, as long as there is no oncoming traffic. There are often ways to mitigate the great and small disasters in life by course correcting.

Potholes make me slow down. Instead of rushing from A to B, I need to be measured and disciplined to get there safely. This is a lesson I need to learn over and over. When confronted with overwhelm, it is best to slow down and approach tasks with a well-considered plan rather than plough ahead at full speed.

Then there is the detour. At times it is well worth obeying the sign. It may take longer to get wherever I’m going but there’s a reason for the diversion. These roads are often scenic and may lead to unexpected pleasures along the way. A detour whether forced or voluntary can provide insights which otherwise could easily be missed.

I am learning to approach potholes as moments to pause and reflect. They may be an unwanted disruption, but they teach me that I can’t control everything. And ever so slowly, I am learning to accept the things I cannot change.