Rain and Bones

I've always loved the rain. One of our share housing criteria back in the day was a tin roof so you could lie in bed and listen to the patter of the rain. (The other ones were a deck, gas cooktop and a wooden toilet seat) I've also always had an appreciation for water usage. I grew up on tank water, particularly at The Island where you had a very finite amount to use for each stay, so the lessons of water conservation are pretty ground in to my brain.

When we moved to Lantanaland, the water situation is even more real. Waste water and you end up with a bill for a truck to come up the hill. Then we got the cows and I got a little bit obsessive. I started to feel like the soil was part of my body and as it dried out and the grass dwindled I could feel the dryness in me. The last two months as I've been wandering around chasing the cows I can feel the hardness, the dryness of the soil coming up through my boots.

Last night as the first drops hit the roof in what I hoped would be a day of rain to come, the part of me inside that is Lantanaland relaxed a little. Today I can feel the soil slowly rehydrating, the grass waking up, the tank slowly filling. It feels good.