There had been rain after a long period of none. For two days it had fallen lightly, consistently. First softening the earth, then leaving the earth saturated at the surface. There were no small floods, no sudden runoff as there can be when a downpour arrives after months of none. The ground seemed to receive what there was. Then the rains were gone.
It seems to be the season for it, though we have been trudging through a drought. One feels a shortage more and differently when cradled in an agricultural valley, one notices the rain when it arrives. There is that sense in the air and in people, the breath of relief, the subtle messaging that things are going to be okay, or getting better at the least.
Next arrives the seasonal depression, the winter mistral. The heater in my apartment has been turning on and off for two days. The temperature has dropped past the agreed upon threshold. The click of it has informed me of the changes arriving. My body jumps in response. My body jumps at the sound of this machine in the closet. It has come to life. This life.
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