In the Wet Garden

I went to sleep last night to the heavy beat of rain and the wind blowing against the windows. While northern parts of the country are buried under deep drifts of snow, here we have only persistent rain. Early today there was a brief break in the clouds. Don't be fooled. That bit of blue sky was only a tease.I hurried out with my camera. I walked on spongy earth, and I am grateful we do not live in a flood plain.This is no flood. It is water in a birdbath!

It was a bejeweled morning, a short respite from the gloom, as dripping branches glistened in the soft light, though I could see black clouds gathering for another surge.

Flowers were sodden, some full blooms lying helpless on the ground where they had been carried by the storms:

I often kneel or lie down to get better views of the hellebores, but not today!

Sometimes the tiniest things are the most interesting. This hydrangea 'Lady in Red' bud is pushing out even as last year's dried blooms still cling nearby to the same shrub. I can't decide if the new bud looks more like a candle or an arrow head!

It was a good morning to admire freshly washed foliage. Anything variegated is my favorite!

A couple of years ago I went on a rampage and tried to eliminate all of the wild nandinas growing throughout my garden, nearly an impossible task, and here is one I missed. I need to get rid of those berries soon, but I couldn't bring myself to do it today.Nandina is invasive, but I love the bright berries!

I was grateful to get these few photos of the garden, for chilling rain soon returned and continued the rest of the day. My poor bones never did get warm. Sunshine is predicted for later in the week. If that happens and we also get some warmer temperatures, I think spring will gain too much momentum to stop, but one never knows for sure. Here one day is winter, the next day spring, around and around again until we are all confused, but eventually it works out!

An Ode to Raindrops

There is ancient history in a raindrop, if we could read it.

Where has the raindrop been? Was it ever part of a powerful storm that altered the land and destroyed the lives of men? Perhaps it once bounced along in a woodland stream where primitive people bathed their babies, washed their garments, and fished for their suppers. An important king may have quenched his thirst with the drop, or maybe it fell from a farmer's brow as he plowed the field. How many plants have reached their roots into the soil to seek out its life giving moisture? Does the drop still remember the pounding rhythms of the ocean? How long did it float in a cloud before returning to earth in my front yard?

August has been much drier than July, and I was happy this weekend when we had a real gullywasher, as local folks would say. Great torrents of water overwhelmed the gutters and came pouring off the eves of the house. We sang for joy. This means we don't have to pull heavy hoses over the yard for a few days, depending on the temperatures. It is still steamy in the Deep South, but September's relief is just around the corner. I went outside after the storm and waxed euphoric over the raindrops still clinging to the foliage:Mist lingers after a storm, seen in some random views of the yard: I hope you all have a great week, and may raindrops keep falling as you need them!  

Deborah