Half a flipflop, candy wrappers, tin cans, water bottle tops, smashed pop cans, bricks, and hundreds of broken shells are strewn over our yard.  A gulf in the sand shows where a raging river rushed a few days ago.   The garden looks perky, and in the last few days I’ve planted cilantro, basil, cucumbers, and dill.

Inside the house there are five or six spots of white tape on the floor.  Despite the fact that I told Margaret, “First we pray here, then we pray there, then we pray here, and finally we pray here.” the tape really does not mark places of worship.

These are all signs of the rainy season.  The rainy season that means the incredibly hot season is drawing to a close.  Not finished yet, but getting closer.  I could still horrify you with tales of the incredible amount of sweat that appears on days like today.  But the overcast and rainy days are amazing.  Cool and lovely.

My students were just as excited as I was for the rain.  I may have had to practically shout as I read Homer Price to them.  And the books on the top of my shelf may have gotten a bit wet from mist through the windows. (Windows here often equal screens and bars, but no shutters or glass.)  And half the schoolroom may have started to flood.  But there is something incredibly refreshing about a heavy downpour.   Something refreshing about the sound of rain on a tin roof.    Something even more refreshing about standing in the rain, letting it drench you.

We don’t have rain every day.   And apparently sometimes during rainy season the rain is absent for a week or two. But you always know it will be back.

Of course, because there is not as much sunshine during the rainy season charging one’s computer becomes a bit more complicated.  And a charged computer is looked at as a precious possession.  Consequently, a blog that has not been updated recently is also a sign of the rainy season.

So if you are wondering why I am not updating my blog, you can blame it on the rain.  I may be standing in my garden, mud squishing through my toes, picking cucumbers.  Or bicycling through the rain to school.  Or playing in the rain with Micah and Krista.  Or even just gazing out the window, a huge smile on my face as our backyard turns into a raging river.

There shall be showers of blessings; send them upon us, oh, Lord.