The Branches Are Roarin'

 

After several days of rain, the water in the branches (streams) is running high  . . .

Our own little Wool Branch is burbling and gurgling its way down the mountain . . .

Overflowing the waterfall's spillway, it finds a way around . . .

 Splashing and dashing in its eagerness to make its way to the French Broad River and be on its long  journey to the sea. 

A Good Beginning . . .

It rained all day yesterday -- a fine beginning to to the new year. Our pastures and our woods soaked up the blessed moisture as the snow melted and the soft rain continued to fall, melting the snow.

 

I was happy to catch a glimpse of what must be the same gang of turkeys that we watched grow from poults last year. The two hens are pretty much indistinguishable from their full-grown offspring now. The almost white one is still with them and they seem to ave picked up a few extras -- probably 'jakes' -- young males.

The house was filled with the smell of pork roasting, collard greens and black-eyed peas simmering with hog jowl and cornbread baking. On the television, various bowl games brightened the grey day with a confusion of colors. (I'm not a football fan myself but I live with one. )


It seemed to me the perfect way to begin the new year.

(This is late posting because our server has been down...)

No Sacrifice Needed . . .

Another dog day 

Dawned -- air heavy, moisture filled.

Hard to breathe -- until . . .

Wet air clinched -- gathered

Itself into rain and strung

The clothesline with pearls.

We sat on the porch,

Watching rain cloak the mountains,

Breathing deep and cool.

 The clematis vine's

Wiry gilded seed pods shone

With tiny diamonds.

We got almost an inch of rain yesterday afternoon and we didn't have to sacrifice a brown dog. Whew! says Maggie --  (see Wikipedia link in yesterday's post.)

The video below is just the rain and the sound it makes on a metal roof. Pure bliss!

 

The Rain Came

Click on picture below for slide show with commentary.  Happy Sunday! 

A Spring Rain is a Lovesome Thing

'Red sky at morning -- sailor take warning.'

Though it was more of a pinkish-orange than red, Thursday's sky did, indeed, foretell rain.

I managed to do a bit in the garden -- tidying up the asparagus beds. pruning the black pussy willow, and planting some sugar snap peas and mesclun -- before the clouds rolled in and the rain drops drove me back to the house.

The recent hot days have dried things out amazingly fast and the rain was most welcome -- especially as there've been brush fires in the area.

Such a pleasure to see the drops pocking the surface of the fish pool. . .

...making the periwinkle glisten...

... and setting an evergreen a-twinkle with tiny lights.

The tulips blushed pink with pleasure and the forsythia was a joyous yellow burst against the new-mown grass's emerald green.

A spring rain is a lovesome thing.

After the December Rain

Since the snow of a few days back, the weather has been haze and drizzle -- gray and misty and cold. Then on Tuesday night there was a downpour that reminded us what a blessing shelter is. It raged and beat against the window panes, set up a tattoo on the metal roof, and generally sounded like Noah's flood had come again.

We feared that the road would be washed away but when morning dawned, there were only two inches in the rain gauge and, though branches that are usually mere trickles were roaring, the road was intact.

After all this time with no sun to speak of, it was a bit of a thrill just to see good strong shadows. . .

. . . and to see the river birch decked briefly in a million fairy lights.

A Gentle Rain

After being spoiled with abundant rain for most of July, we've found the past week way too dry. Thunder storms have dodged all around us, giving us a few tantalizing drops to pock the dust and then sweeping off to soak someone else.

But finally, yesterday evening, came a lovely gentle rain! Perfect timing, as I'd spent the morning whacking back the mock orange that was obscuring our view of the fish pool. Now John and I sat on the porch, luxuriating in the cool, damp air, the patter of drops on the metal roof, and the syncopated dance of rain on the once again-visible pond surface.

Miss Susie Hutchins joined us in our blissful appreciation . . . though I think she believed we were admiring her rather than the rain.

Just before night fell we could see in the distance, the after-rain mists rising from all the grateful coves and hollows.

Nearly Wordless

A hard morning rain . . .

Much appreciated by day lilies . . .

Clematis and roses . . .

And more day day lilies . . .

Hens line the perch, keeping their feet clean . . .
























But by the little waterfall, the Japanese iris delight in mud . . .























The iris are so beautiful that I am consumed with a desire for more . . . a trip to town and I find one -- a slightly different shade of purple. . .
























It rides in the backseat . . . a haughty beauty . . . and I return home to clearing evening skies.

Greens . . .

We've had rain every day for almost a week and the array of various shades of green is staggering. Above, the creamy blooms of the horse chestnut (or buckeye) are lifted above the the glistening jade of the leaves.

Below, clumps of water cress in the branch under the willow rejoice in the flowing water. Watercress was first planted there by some tenants a good fifteen years ago and it has seeded and spread with a will. I have sighted it growing happily in the branch at least a mile down the road.

The pale new yellow-greens are perhaps my favorite -- lacy against the sky and feathery against the solidness of the dark tree trunks. But would that pale green be half so charming without the deep green of the evergreens as background?

And the newly-mown grass! I don't know where I first heard the phrase 'emerald sward' but that's what comes to mind when I see it just now! Of course, with all this rain, that new-mown look is gone in about 24 hours.

There's been too much drought for the past several years for anyone to complain of rain, even as weeds prosper and gardens await planting. This gentle persistent rain feels like restoration . . . like healing . . . like a blessing on the land.