As Right as Rain
Let me tell you about this walk I took recently:
It was early evening. The trail was wet and muddy where the gravel hadn’t washed away, with narrow but deep trenches where water had been working overtime to expose the bedrock beneath the dirt. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and leaves exposed their lighter undersides ahead of the approaching storm. The air had that tangible golden-green hue that precedes a change in weather or time-of-day.
A multitude of forest sounds played a symphony to my heart. Water, water everywhere—dripping off leaves, crashing down normally-dry streams and creating new ones all throughout the woods. A crow sat in the top of a tree calling out, “Nevermore!” (Just kidding – it was more like “Caw! Caw!”) I passed a marshy area— well, a marshier area— where the frog song was almost loud enough to hurt my ears. Had I anything to add to the chorus, I would have had to shout to be heard.