The Rains Are Coming

I can smell it in the air. It is damp and sweet and still. The birds are active, like they are busy chatting about shelters and food. There may even be rejoicing for the after the rain feast of displaced insects and worms. Although the sun rose in a pink haze this morning, bright white clouds with silver linings litter the expanse of sky.

I feel like sitting still, in one place, waiting for the first droplets. Once, on the rugged shore of Ono Beach in Oregon, I watched the rain arrive. I stood at the shore as a large dark cloud hovered over the ocean. I could smell the rain then, too. I stood rooted in the sand and watched as the blackened rain cloud approached. It announced it's arrival with cold winds whipping at my cheeks and through my clothes. As the first droplets kissed my cheeks, I thought I should go back to the shelter of our camp. I was curious though, to see what it would be like to stay and let the storm wash over me. And, so I rooted my feet deep into the crunchy sand and held my arms up to the black sky and welcomed the full and heavy raindrops. I opened my mouth and heart and let it rain down on me. The wind roared and the drops pelted me, soaking my clothes and hair, but igniting my spirit. Small orbs of hail began to fall. I lowered my head in surrender and for protection, but I stood tall. I did not flee. The cloud eventually passed over me, the droplets lightened in weight and intensity. The wind settled into a steady hum. Just as the cloud passed beyond me, I looked out over the Pacific Ocean to see the sun, hazy and pink and orange, shaking off the black and gray of the disappearing cloud. I stood at the shore as the sun began to gain strength and warm my cheeks, dry my hair and warm my soul. I only looked back once at the passing cloud, and then, turned my heart and head toward the sun.