The last few days have provided us with clear skies and little wind; after weeks of heavy rain and high winds in Northern California. After the many wide puddles disappeared into the earth and sky, I donned my rubber boots and slogged out to my garden and field areas.
Some Arizona cypress trees were bent low. Eucalyptus branches were down. Small branches and twigs were scattered everywhere. The nearby creek was full and rushing quite fast. Muddy clay nutured the fresh new green grass that had sprung up everywhere.
The surrounding mountains were heavily covered with snow down to 2,500 feet. The dark clouds had lifted and the snow seemed to glow.
Pea hens, ducks, dogs, and children all filled the air with their sounds. One could sit outdoors and listen to something other than the falling rain and gusty winds.
The solemnity of the Pacific rainstorms, their awesome power, their overwhelming presence, and their vital importance to our lives had left their mark on the land and my mind. My mind expanded as the fresh smells of the wet earth filled my lungs. Beauty was everywhere - everything was soaked in beauty.
Narcissus blooming
over wet clay --
dreams of Easter.
"The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell,
lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything
quieter as it fell, so that winter seemed to partake of religion in a
way no other season did, hushed, solemn."
- Patricia Hampl
Water: Quotes for Gardeners
5:43:23 AM 
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