The lightning last night looked like a strobe in the backyard when I took Echo out for her last pit stop. Thunder reverberated through the hills in between the scattered staccato flashes of what Bill calls "heat lightning." And this morning, we were greeted with the welcome sound of rain pattering on the roof and pouring down the gutter spouts.
Though the drought this year has not been as bad as last year, it's been bad enough. On my walk down by the pond yesterday, everything is shrivelled and dry. The pears that I was so looking forward to are no longer on the trees and the wild black cherries are nothing but hard pits on stems, drying up right on the branches.
The pond is now referred to as "the puddle," about half its normal size. Even though I've been through this before, it's unnerving to see it shrink from its banks daily.
Hopefully, it will continue to rain through the day and give us the water we so desperately need. We could use about three weeks of steady precipitation before I would worry about building an ark.
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