Listen To the Rain

It falls gently outside my window, watering everything. 

The forecast is for nine days of rain. We need it. The river is low. The islands in the center have beaches. The canal is barely a puddle in places, and the rest is covered in algae bloom. I can barely see the rain as it falls, but every now and then it catches a reflection of light off the clouds and shows itself. Its soft cadence blends with birdsong in soft harmonies.

Tiny whispers of breeze move green leaves on trees.

I sip chicken broth, and water infused with a slice of lemon and basil leaves.

Everything is quiet and my breathing slows. The air is spared from the breath of lawn tools. 

It's the sound of cleansing. 

The thought teases a deep breath from me. And another. And a third. The week has been frenetic and here are a few moments to pause and catch my breath before diving in again. A cue to remember myself before I remember everything else. I feel energy pulsing in my body and notice that something has changed. I move through the Green Wilderness with rain on my skin and in my thoughts, refreshed. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She askes big questions of the small things in life.