The rain has been lovely . . .

I endure autumn, winter, and spring with some equanimity only because their passage means that eventually we get back to summer. I love Crepe Myrtles and verdant landscapes where all sorts of bushes and flowers spill out onto lawns and sidewalks because homeowners too busy swimming to keep them contained.

I even enjoy the heatwaves and droughts. Up to a point, that is. That point comes when lawns turn brown and trees die. It looked as if we would have one of those summers so hot and dry that nothing, not even native plants, could thrive.

Then the thunderstorms began to arrive--five in all, I believe, only three at my house. The storms brought a certain amount of devastation: oak trees in the roads, limbs all over the sidewalks, piles of debris that leaf & limb never seem to find the time to pick up blown across the road, leaves and small sticks scattering everywhere. Some of the damage is the result of the trees being too dry to withstand being whiplashed by hurricane-like wind, but some is because homeowners let their trees rot until they fall into the road so that the city has to clean the mess up at no cost to the homeowner but plenty to taxpayers.

Despite downed limbs and trees, the rain has been lovely. Six inches at a friend's house, three at mine all total. The browning lawns and maple trees and flowers of every variety have revived.

I leave the house without having to put on a coat and scarf and gloves--just walk right out the door in my cool summer outfit--and walk to the car, noticing how green the grass has gotten on my tiny front lawn and how beautiful the butterfly bush across the street is and am reminded by all of the beauty that comes crashing down on me why summer is, despite whatever others rightfully point out might be wrong with it, my favorite season.