After the rain

After the rain, the air is still, reflective, a sigh and release after the fury.

After the rain, it smells like damp earth, the basest form of life. You let the smell linger in your nostrils, breathing deeper and deeper, allowing it to fill your soul with renewal.

After the rain, the woods are still, waiting. Can we come out yet?, the creatures ask. Can we come eat the green leaves which are now even greener?

Thanks to for the photo!

Thanks to for the photo!

After the rain, the caterpillars hide under the shadow of low lying ivy, and the deer move slower, more meditatively. The chipmunks linger on their branches and in their holes, resting before resuming their usual scamper and clamber, a constant relationship with the tree trunks. Only the slugs are out in full force, slithering along the wet and rich dirt, dragging soggy pine needles behind them like a silly pom pom hat.

After the rain, the sun leaks out from between the branches and leaves, long rays stretching and yawning their way weakly from behind the great clouds. The woods are soon dappled with the leaf shadows of this newly awakened sun.

After the rain, the breeze begins to wind its way amongst the branches. The leaves dance with the wind, shaking themselves off cheerfully in the process- the small, bright droplets that fall are reminiscent of only a memory- the cozy wetness and pitter patter from the night before.

After the rain, the forest is shiny. The leaves glow with a sheen of left-behind rain not quite dry. Lingering pools sparkle and glisten and ripples with its friend the breeze.

After the rain, the woods slowly wake up, everything reacquainting with each other. Wind with sun, deer with grass, water with dirt. The busyness begins again after the animals shed their laziness and shake the sleep from their eyes.

The sun and the rain are friends, a duo bringing life and love to the darkest nooks and crannies.

After the rain, all are happy

After the rain.


One thought on “After the rain

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