Rain rain rain

Rain rain rain. Soft rain that plumps up my skin and frizzes up my hair. Gentle misty rain that makes the grass blades reach up and shimmer in dayglo green bedecked with diamante rain drops. The sky is like a flat sea with rolling waves of grey. The breeze is a drink of cold fresh water. The earth softens like a giant sponge. Dassies shelter under rocky shelves, their woolly faces poking out – watching me.

Big rain comes with drama. Crushing heat that sucks the moisture from our bodies, squeezing our brains, flattening us out with a gravitational pull. Giant boiling thunderheads that loom menacingly playing with the light – shining white and growling purple at the same time. Electricity crackles in the air, flashing against our retinas – we silently beg the rain to come, but so often the thunderheads cruise by. We wait our turn.

When it comes, big fat raindrops pelt the roof like a hail of stones. The release of tension is palpable. The smell of wet earth strong and heady. Water collects, runs off the roof, runs along the ground turning roads into rivers, filling the dams. A long awaited rainstorm is a wonderous thing.

When you are waiting for rain its hard to believe there are parts of the world where people sigh and say “oh no its raining again”. Too much rain here brings floods which are cleansing and destructive. When the rains are late though and we watch the land laid bare; leaves and grasses wither and die; livestock shrink to skin and bones; boreholes dry up – we are reminded that water is life. That you cannot make it when it isn’t there.

So today I am paying homage to the rain gods for today is soft and cool with gentle rains that soak the ground to the roots of all growing things. And I am thinking of those elsewhere in Africa who watch the skies anxiously for their turn – hoping it gets there soon.