Promises, Promises

Last night they began to move in: Clouds of every description. Sometimes dark, as if overloaded with all the dampness of the sky … other times so light and puffed they epitomized the word “flighty”. I checked through the night for the downpour the clouds promised, but there was no shine on the sidewalks, no glisten on the plants in the Rancho’s front yard. Disappointed, I returned to bed; I was certain the next time I would check there would surely be rain. Still: Nothing. And by morning there was much too much light streaming into the bedroom for rain … looking out the window there was a breeze — and still more clouds — but no rain.

It’s early afternoon now and although I’ve been monitoring them through the day the clouds have stingily held on to their watery bounty. I thought that by taking photos of the clouds they  might be goaded into raining on my one man parade, but no … instead I got glances from people in passing cars, looking up to see what I might be shooting of interest. I could almost see the thought in their faces: “But it’s only clouds.”

—O-O—

So here are my clouds today … I love them all equally, whether feathery, quilted, leaden, monstrous, gray, grey, white, blue, steel gray, cool grey, battleship, spotty, streaky, solid, loose or frighteningly massive. I must confess, however, that I will love them much more once they decide conditions are perfect and they water my garden again. A blessing bestowed, and a relief from duty for another week or two . . .

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Late afternoon: I try not to take note of the fact that the clouds that earlier held so much promise seem to be bowing out. I go for my afternoon walk, studiously avoiding what’s happening overhead. Maybe still . . .

Dusk: A solitary — mocking? — puff of gauzy cloudiness is lit by the sun’s final rays. I can no longer delude myself into believing that we will have rain today. Tomorrow perhaps? Heaven knows.

—O-O—

There was rain, finally, overnight … Yes!