You know, it wouldn't take a lot of time to go by without any rain for the greenest pastures to turn to desert.

It has been several weeks now since it rained at my house. I watch the green and yellow and red splotches on the Weather Channel meander up from the South or mosey over from the West. Some areas very near me are getting wet, moist relief -- even heavy rains; but, as the colored splotches come near my house, they disintegrate into a light green nothingness. In the end, nothing is left but the dull gray of the Weather Channel's idea of where I live. The blips go around in circles, searching for needed raindrops, but they have long since dissipated.

I need those colors, dammit! I need some reds and yellows! You can even throw in a purple. I'll be glad to clean up the wind damage afterwards.

I read these nodes about the beauty of a thunderstorm. Shut up!. . . I know how beautiful a thunderstorm is, but I can't remember forever. Quit teasing me with it.

Did you know that when a hardwood tree throws its leaves to the ground in a stressed environment (such as the one I'm telling you about right now) that this means the tree has decided to go dormant early. However, if the leaves are dead and still cling to the tree, the tree itself is dead. There's something eerily beautiful about that metaphor, isn't there?