The Hour Glass

Rain. It's there and all this week I had to deal with it. I have an interesting relationship with it. I've spent most of my life trying to protect myself and my things from it, yet; it is so necessary for my existence.
It brings the water from above to feed the plants I eat, and, it replenishes the reservoirs from which I drink. It's silly to have such a contentious relationship with something so vital to one's existence. I am going to work to change this. The rain needs love too.
We worked straight through the storms this week and I think it's safe to say that I spent more time in the rain than out of it. Amazing!
I made my peace with the rain on Wednesday while picking chard. The field was soft from the unending heavenly flood. Our feet sank deeper into the beds as we searched for the best leaves. I looked to the gray horizon and wondered when the rain would end. Then, I tilted my face to the sky and allowed the drops to stain my cheeks. When I looked at the chard again I felt warm and sleepy, like after drinking a cup of cinnamon milk at the end of a cold day. I wanted to lay down in the softening soil and let the rain pour over me like the sand in an hour glass. Being out in the elements made me feel ancient and quiet. The sands of time stood still while the rain fell. I watched and listened to the rain for ages. I was happy and content to just be.
Awakening from my timeless slumber I felt a quiet sense of loss. As if I had lost something archaic and simple that I had been told to hold forever. I reached out for it but only found a fading echo of meaning.