On remaining astonished

Evening walks, rainy days and the soul’s need for thunder

The rain was no longer falling from the sky, but her waters had thoroughly blanketed the earth around us.

The red clay was now red mud. The grasses were dewy. The pavement was slick. The trees and shrubs encircling our little acre were pulsing with an electric, rich greenness.

The world comes alive after a fresh shower. I live for days like this.