Beyond the brambles a creek runs shadowed. Overhung by hemlock, cedar and fir, and bordered by rocks buried in moss, it trickles a boundary between our property and the neighbour’s. In summer it’s almost non-existent, but now, filled by days of rain, it tumbles its way down shallow slopes to reach the marsh.
Rain spatters circles into its surface and glosses nearby ferns. The ground squishes under foot as I pause at water’s edge to click pictures.
Who in their right mind wanders around in the rain with a camera and no umbrella? Perhaps I’ve never had a right mind, but I like the freshness of rain-washed air on an almost-spring day. I couldn’t resist as the soggy Sunday afternoon beckoned me into it.
The breeze and dripping trees fling chilled drops into my face and down my neck. Too soon I am chased back where there is warmth and dryness, and I return to my writing.
“Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”
[John 7:37b-38 – NIV]