The day started too hot, too humid; the heavy still disturbed by cicadas calling.

A single blue hydrangea bloom glows; the extreme winter freeze caused the old blooming wood to die off many of the hydrangeas. 

By 5 pm, darkness had closed in, then thunder rolled and crashed across the sky chasing lightening flashes. I count the seconds between, marking the distance. I remember my parents’ front porch on the house at the top of the hill where I’d stake claim to the chaise and watch the storms rolling in from the west streak the sky with jagged lights and feel the gratitude of rain laden breezes cooling hot skin on summer evenings.

So I went outside and sat under cover and listened, quieting myself. In the midst of the storm the hummingbird came and drank and sparrows flew in for dinner too. None seemed concerned by the din or rain. Their Father had provided bloom and feeder and with that they were content. I went in and cooked our simple meal, it was delicious.

The rain continues; the air, 20 degrees cooler, refreshes.