One of the best things about being a kid is the snail pace that is summer. Summer starts out embellished by an enthusiasm like no other. But soon, like every other novel happening, a rhythm is found and we settle in. We have become accustomed to the hot days that this particular year has bestowed upon us. Our neighbor’s horses have become resigned to the heat and we have all followed suit. We all seem to languish except for the cucumbers that celebrate the heat by proliferating. Anybody want some? As we vacuumed floors today and did the obligatory chores that no one likes to do, our toil showed as buckets of sweats poured from us. This old house has a cruel way of torturing us during the heat waves of summer and perhaps even more so during the cold snaps of the winter. Standing in the doorway, feeling like the relentlessness of summer was stuck to me, I watched a storm come in. Within minutes, it was pouring. The newly planted elephant ear reached out to the water droplets with its massive leaves listening to the rain. The Hydrangeas celebrated the soaking. I could hear the kids stirring as they looked out the bedroom window. My husband turned off the vacuum and was the first to walk out into the pouring rain. Like the man from an Irish Spring commercial, he stood face up to the clouds daring it rain harder…and it did. The kids would run out next wearing bathing suits and trouncing through puddles. Grabbing my camera, I would take a few photos before diving into the puddles myself. Summer had acting up like an impatient child and had it’s own special kind of tantrum. We all reveled in its misbehavior. In short notice, summer had changed into an entirely different kind of animal and we welcomed it with open arms. Summer somehow redeemed itself as we sat on the porch cooled off and laughing. When it pours like that, there is little you can do but enjoy the unordinary miracle for what it is.
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