The Melding of Aeris showed up today down by the barns, wrapped in plastic against the rain. We live out in the boonies and that’s as close to the house as anything in the back of a delivery truck is likely to get. This is the time of year in Oregon when the faucet turns on. The rain literally pours, like in buckets, and it will do so for the next eight or nine months. We have fifty different words for rain out here and at least a dozen for the rays of sunshine that occasionally burst through the clouds. Back east we had rain showers; here we have sun breaks.
This is the season of moss too, thick squishy moss on roofs and fences and anything else left outside. A local photographer takes pictures of old junk cars covered in decades of moss. There’s one that catches my eye – a car so encased in its emerald cloak that it appears as if there’s a steering wheel in a secret green cave. I could crawl in through the window and pretend I’m a hobbit.
Our summers are so short that we pack a year’s worth of outdoor chores, vacations, picnics, festivals, gardening, and hikes into three months (that’s if we’re lucky). The arrival of rain usually accompanies a massive sigh. Light a fire in the woodstove, put on a pot of tea, back bread, swallow 500 mg. of vitamin D, grab a good book, and enjoy a forced respite from the frenzy of summer. And it’s good sleeping weather by the by. We open the window and listen to the rain pound on our metal roof. I love the rain this time of year. But I won’t tell you how I feel about it come June.
The Melding of Aeris is now available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble.