Winter is here and that is when rain falls in my part of the world. I live in the state which is the driest state on the driest continent, so rain is always welcome, even when it disrupts the traffic and bursts water mains. Trying to capture it for harvest and refilling aquifers, dams, tanks is a valued and highly respected activity of professionals and amateurs. Replenishing what has been used over the summer, in winter, in time for the next summer is a conversation to be heard in public places: How much rain did you get? is a question not just reserved for those making a living on the land.
My heart is trying to fill up again, as for all the deposits made I feel quite bankrupt and empty right now. There is definitely a drought going on and I long for rain, a sprinkle would do, I don’t need a deluge, in fact too much, might cause a flood and a burst main inside. I am barren, not fallow. It is an emptiness that has a longing and a yearning, looking to the skies for signs of rain, sniffing the wind to see if there might be a hint in the morning or overnight perhaps even a little dew might have formed to provide a promise of some moisture. While I can always resort to being re-hydrated by turning to mains water, those arteries of love on tap through friends and family which are never far away, my inner, deeper, self is calling on the skies to fill me up again naturally.
All around me though I find dark clouds, not forecasting rain, but rather menacing clouds found in desert skies, offering false hope and promise of rains that won’t arrive. At least I can see them forming now and they do forecast a change of season on the horizon.
I planted little snow pea seeds a couple of weeks ago and in the dark, they have sprouted and with singular energy stored, burst through the soil and are now bearing a few leaves. The winter rains are offering them all they need to find their way to the sunshine. They invite me to witness their unfolding and I stare at them, wanting to be more like them. Reliant on the rain from the heavens, fostered by the species and sounds all around them coaxing them to reach higher, planted in love and confidently drawing themselves towards the light. Winter is offering them a new beginning.
Thanking Coldplay for the reminder that ‘every teardrop a waterfall‘, I contemplate my tears maybe the sign I am looking for to tell me the drought is breaking. I break over and over again. I am the seed trying to get enough moisture to swell and break through the soil covering me. I have enough resources to do some of this work on my own, but the heavens have to do their bit and rain on me too. Winter is here and in my part of the world it rains in winter and mainly rains at night.