PATINA MEADOW AFTER THE RAIN

The past week has been marked by dark, dense clouds carpeting themselves across a once blue sky, accompanied by the pitter-patter of raindrops against the structures of Patina Meadow.

We have been grateful for this forecast. It has been an unusually dry spring, with low creeks and parched pastures calling out for relief from above. But after a couple of days, we began to crave the sight of the sun cresting the hillside and the vibrant glow of springtime. The grass is always greener, especially on the other side of a rainstorm.

Today, I awoke to singing birds and touches of blue in the sky. Clouds were still scattered, but they did not appear as weighty as before. They had given all the rain they could, and now they rested, waiting to weep once again.

Reminders of the rain remained. The wood around the land is still darkened by dampness.  The sole of my boots leave their mark in the mud. Humidity bears down on the landscape like a heavy blanket, suggesting that this was merely a break in showers rather than an end.

The hillsides are a glowing bright green, a shade they reserve for the days following a downpour. Dotted against the grass are our animals, who have been eagerly awaiting their chance to chomp on the sweet new growth.

The sheep meander near the bottom of the hillside, taking time to seek out the low-growing grass.

They keep their heads down, nibbling continuously, until they tire enough to bring their bodies down as well.

Slightly higher up in the field, the goats reach up to gobble down the taller weeds and brambles.

Though they are less selective, they still know to avoid the noxious plants that pop up amongst their buffet, reminding us that they are smarter than we give them credit for most days.

Beneath the canopy of still-dripping tree limbs, the pigs use their snouts to root around for grubs in the moist soil.

Though the sheep and goats do let out the odd baa or bleat, the pigs are almost constantly contributing oinks and squeals to the woodland chorus of chirping and tweeting, and the buzzing of bees.

While many of the animals were actively exploring the day alongside me, not all saw the break in the rain as a call to get out and play. In the dog trot, sweet Blue lies his body down on his bed to rest after a long night of patrolling. I wonder if he prefers the rainy days, if he finds the sound of rain sprinkling against the tin roof of his home soothing as he seeks out sleep.

After latching the gate separating our world and theirs, I stood for a while at the edge of the field, watching the light move across the grass in slow patches. It shifted gently, passing over the wet ground, revealing the life emerging after the rain. 

Days like these remind me of the power of polarity.

We may say that we wish all days were bathed in sunlight, with temperate temperatures, and the occasional cool breeze rustling lush leaves, but without the dreary days and torrential downpours, we would not appreciate them as we should.

For the light to be a beautiful sight, we must sometimes spend time in the dark.

Love,

Leila