Dry spells come in different shapes and forms. My writing dried up when last year’s devastating drought overtook every thought and emotion. The awful power of its quiet destruction crept into our pastures, slowly stealing the grass that feeds not only our cows, but the rabbits and deer. It dried up both our ponds and sneaked into our five acre wood and sapped the life from tree after tree, then crawled up the Hill and took away the leaning Cedar next to the small pond, then Elm after Elm, the Wild Plum at the yard fence, and even the pair of Bois D’Arc, two we thought could withstand anything.
When the leaves on the trees started rattling around the Hill, I drew a line in the sand and pulled out the water hoses, moving them around the line of protection, watering Every Day for six months. Even through the cooler months and the few leaves that were left began to fall, I watered.
With all the promise of new life, 2012 has finally brought weeks of rain and joy. The two large Elms that stand behind the house have burst into green. Also covered in luscious new green growth are the two old companion Oaks that stand between the drive and the paddock and behind the Cabin, the beautiful Cedar is still spreading her limbs to the ground with new tips of new green.
I am anxious to share more of the renewal excitement in weeks ahead. It feels good that words are flowing again.
