I'm standing at the mudroom window, leaning on an old bench, absorbing the silence of an August rain. The deck is wet and slick, the Dusty Miller and Moss Rose Plants are laden with the two day rain. The mustard a previous owner planted is heavy and nodding with the bounty of wetness a late summer rain has provided, and the accidental tomato plant growing in the hostas is ripening quickly.
An unseasonal wet and cool two days is providing me with a taste of Autumn, a cool breeze a gift of God, and I'm just savoring standing here, watching, listening, smelling.
The deck lights come on south to north, one by one, and the gentle rain continues, feeding, nourishing, both the plants and my spirit. I wait gently for the silence of an autumn rainstorm, it's where I belong, it's where I live always in my soul. That spot where the bounty of summer is fully ripened and waiting to pick, and the restfullness of winter is far ahead.
August is when I started dating my husband, Autumn when I knew we would be together for a long time. It's when we were married, when our first child was born. When my thoughts turn to both wandering to new places, and staying at home for a season.
My knee leans on the bench, scarred by dog paws and children's toys, and I am overwhelmed with gratefulness, Knowing that this patch of land is mine for a time.
I wait for the streetlight to come on in the yard of the Narnia house,and listen to the rain, and watch squirrels scurry to get home, and listen to silence.
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