In 2018 I started this Damp Earth Art blog to hopefully invoke some rain during a drought year. We are in the new water year of 2022-23 and already have received 30.13" of precipitation as of New Year's Day! Fingers crossed that the storms keep coming!

I'm going keep updating this blog, so if the rain inspired you to write or photograph or create art please send it to me, and I'll post it! Please send your work to me at northyubanaturalist@gmail. Maybe our joint efforts will inspire the heavens to continue to rain! You never know!

Here are the latest submissions I've received:

A year of Rain photos : Raindrops up close

North Yuba River Canyon - Rose leaves and rain

Black Locust leaves and rain - Cherry leaf and raindrop

Black Locust leaf and raindrops - Grizzly Peak

Incense Cedar in a downpour - Rose leaf and raindrops

Mists and Firs - Dogwood leaf and raindrops

More Raindrops

The air smells so fresh and alive after it rains!

Everything glistens and sparkles like jewels!

"All night gently, now pretty hard. Isn't it wonderful!

Even though my clothes are still on the line."

Nancy Henson - 2022

"Evening Rain at Atake on the Great Bridge",

no.52 from

"One Hundred Views of Famous Places in Edo"

Utagawa Hiroshige ©1857

After the Rain!

Brodiaea in the Rain ©kok 2021

Spring Rain!

Mother Earth Provides:

California rainfall 1895-2021

My plan was to weave historic rainfall in CA and I expected the colors to be green 100 years ago and browner, drier for our current “historic drought”. But the numbers didn’t turn out that way.

The average rainfall for the past 125 years, when viewed in 40-year periods, is consistent. It's between 21.5 and 22.5 inches. Mother Earth provides a lot of rain some years and a lot less others. It is cyclical.

There are many definitions of "drought". Three common ones are:

Hydrologic drought - not enough water for our needs

Agricultural drought - not enough water for our crops

Meteorological drought - less than average rainfall

The color-coded bars in the piece represent annual rainfall from 1895 - 2021. Purple represents the highest rainfall year (more than 37") and gray represents the lowest (less than 8"). The legend at the bottom shows the progression of rainfall amounts between those amounts.

The orange pyramids on the right increase proportionately as the population of CA grew from 1.25 million people in 1890 to the current 39 million people. More people need more water.

The height of the red mercury thermometer on the left shows the average temperature for CA grew about 4° F from 56.5° in 1895 to 60.4° in 2021.

Each 0.5° of temperature increase in 20 years is marked by about 0.2” increase in the height of my red thermometer. Higher temperatures mean people, animals and plants need more water.

Since 1980 it’s been out of control.

How can we learn to live within the limits of what Mother Earth provides?

Photo by Michael Gäbler, CC BY 3.0

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21299216

Leave your laundry hanging on the line,

and it will rain without a doubt!

Do it NOW!

"Rainbird" ©kok 2022

A fabric piece, inspired by raindrops on a bare Maple Tree.

Rain, rain, come on down!

February Snow ©kok 2022

Snow Sparkles!

Oh no! Wind Don't blow!

Bring us rain, and bring us snow.

Let dark gray clouds put on show!

Winter is the best time for sparkles!

"Bullock's Oriole Nest in Winter" - ©kok 2021

Just love the jewel-like raindrops on the ends of the twigs! That's fiberfill, not snow, that a Chickaree put in the nest last Fall!

"Rain on the North Yuba River" - ©kok 2021

"As Right as Rain!"

"deer creek"

"DK - Flute & Drum yuba - Dry Creek"

"ouzel - dipper"

"golden grass - sand pond"

"8 mile snow"

Rain on the Window © kok 2021

"...the rains will return, washing back over Oregon like vast brooding gray armadas in the sky,... Yes, the tide will rise again after The Thaw, and we will shuffle along mooing in the mist, umbrellas jostling, shoes sloshed, socks soaked, suits splashed, sunglasses bereft and forgotten in a lonely drawer, the dog writing muddy music all over the floor again..."

from "The Thaw" © by Brian Doyle

Pine Siskins in the Rain ©kok 2020

Every fall I look forward to seeing the arrival of the Pine Siskins in our neighborhood. At this time of year they are mainly feeding on the Alder cone seeds. Their ability to fly synchronized with each other, in large groups, amazes me! I did this clayboard illustration last winter, when their numbers declined due to contracting salmonella from bird feeders. I hope they have somewhat recovered from that disaster, and will return to our area soon like the rains have!

kok

"Calling Water"

Ceramic Bowl - ©George Schroder 2021

Honey Bees on drenched Salvia ©Alison Rood 2021

A day after it rained here in Sacramento, Oct. 21, to be exact (not the gully washer of Oct. 24!), a few determined honeybees were seeking pollen in my drenched salvia plants. You can see the drops of rain still clinging to the salvia blossoms. I just love those stalwart bees!

Alison Rood

Red-shouldered Hawk ©kok 2019

It's rainy HEAVILY outside, after months and months of hardly any rain! We are celebrating!!! My sisters just sent me some rainy day observations looking out their windows! Enjoy!

"Rain is hitting the windows like someone is out there throwing handfuls of pebbles. The wind is blowing through the edges of my windows like the soundtrack for a Halloween movie. The air is gray. The streets are dark and shiny. The trees are doing their modern dance moves - throwing their hair to the right and left. The telephone wires are dancing. It's so alive!"

Eileen

"We have "sheets" of rain that change angle from vertical to about 30 degrees. We mostly hear the rain tapping on the roof.

Wind comes and goes in gusts to make our trees dance, too.

A mother deer and her teenager are sitting on the ground facing opposite directions right outside the living room windows. You'd think they would hunker down under the trees but maybe they are enjoying taking a shower! The ground is soaking up all the rain for the thirsty plants."

Sheila

"The Big-leaf Maples are busy shedding rain off their large golden leaves. Drips build up and drop off the pointed edges of the five-part leaves. Each one reveals a slight sheen on its surface, as it bobs and bounces in the rain. The distant ridges are obscured by the heavy rain. It's been falling for hours. The creek has risen and is rushing down to the river. The cadence of the raindrops on the roof is such a welcome sound. To our delight the earth is releasing it's long-held camphor once again. I am so grateful!"

kok

raindrops on rose branches ©kok 2019

I suppose you know about the deluge headed your way…

If not let me be the herald of the event.

Atmospheric river….

Wednesday thru next Tuesday. up to 10 inches of rain forecast for Downieville…

Weather Underground shows 3.54 in for Sunday alone...

Some sources are suggesting dangerous amounts of more than 17 inches upslope of Oroville dam and all of Northern Cal to get really wet…not snow but rain.

There, the weather Gods heard you.

Bob

"Dark Weather" - ©Joy Stamp

Downpour:

raindrops thrumming on my umbrella;

soaked from the knees down.

©Paul Guffin

Raindrop Ripples ©kok 2018

"Half a mile from the county fair

And the rain kept pourin' down

Me and Billy standin' there

With a silver half a crown

Hands are full of a fishin' rod

And the tackle on our backs

We just stood there gettin' wet

With our backs against the fence

Oh, the water

Hope it don't rain all day.

And it stoned me to my soul,

Stoned me just like Jelly Roll

And it stoned me

And it stoned me to my soul

Stoned me just like goin' home

And it stoned me

The rain let up and the sun came up

And we were gettin' dry

Almost let a pick-up truck nearly pass us by

So we jumped right in and the driver grinned

And he dropped us up the road

Yeah, we looked at the swim and we jumped right in

Not to mention fishing poles

Oh, the water

Let it run all over me"

And it stoned me to my soul,

Stoned me just like Jell Roll

And it stoned me

And it stoned me to my soul

Stoned me just like goin' home

And it stoned me

On the way back home we sang a song

But our throats were gettin' dry

Then we saw the man from across the road

With the sunshine in his eyes

Well he lived all alone in his own little home

With a great big gallon jar

There were bottles too, one for me and you

And he said Hey! There you are

Oh, the water

Get it myself from the mountain stream

And it stoned me to my soul,

Stoned me just like Jell Roll

And it stoned me

And it stoned me to my soul

Stoned me just like goin' home

And it stoned me

And it stoned me to my soul,

Stoned me just like Jell Roll

And it stoned me

And it stoned me to my soul

Stoned me just like goin' home

And it stoned me

lyrics from "It Stoned Me" by Van Morrison ℗1970

"Black Phoebe" - ©kok 2017

"Summer Raindrops" ©Alicia Ontiveros 2021

"Rainwave" ©Sheila O'Hara 2010

Raindrop ripples and reflection - © KoK 2021

Pyrocumulonimbus cloud from the Dixie Fire - 7/23/21 ©kok 2021

"Oh no! Wind don't blow!

It's already dry you know.

Bring us rain, and bring us snow.

Let dark gray clouds put on a show!"

©KoK 2021

Alder cones and leaves - ©kok 2019

"You don’t see rain stop, but you sense it. You sense something has changed in the frequency you’ve been living and you hear the quietness you thought was silence get quieter still, and you raise your head so your eyes can make sense of what your ears have already told you, which at first is only: something has changed."

Niall Williams - This is Happiness

Cherry tree in a downpour ©kok 2021

"The rain began again. It fell heavily, easily, with no meaning or intention

but the fulfillment of its own nature, which was to fall and fall. "

Helen Garner

Storm Clouds © kok 1999

"Oh I wish it would rain and wash my face clean,

I want to find some dark cloud to hide in here..."

Nancy Griffith

Arrow-leaved Balsamroot in the Rain ©KoK 2021

"A rainy day is the perfect time

for a walk in the woods."

Rachel Carson

Raindrops - ©kok 2019

"When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop, striped and dotted with continents and islands, flying through space with all other stars all singing and shining together as one, the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty."

John Muir

Northern Flicker (female) in Spring Rain - ©kok 2020

I think rain is as necessary to the mind as to vegetation.

My very thoughts become thirsty, and crave the moisture.

John Burroughs

Manzanita blossoms ©kok 2018

April Showers bring May Flowers!

©kok 2015

Spring Rain!

Raindrops! ©kok 2021

The crystal clear raindrops magnify the silvery hairs on the tiny new lupine leaves! Such beauty!

"Spring Rain" ©kok 2001

“Rained gently last night, just enough to wash the town clean, and then today a clean crisp fat spring day, the air redolent, the kind of green minty succulent air you'd bottle if you could and snort greedily on bleak, wet January evenings when the streetlights hzzzt on at four in the afternoon and all existence seems hopeless and sad.”

©Brian Doyle, Mink River

Staten Island Wetlands ©kok 2020

“Brooding weather all day, then a furious downpour, then brilliant late afternoon sun, the air crisp and clean and everything dripping happily, all creatures emerged blinking and capering, the sky crammed with wheeling swifts, you could see for miles, the air so freshly washed that your lungs grinned. You know what I mean.”

©Brian Doyle, Leaping: Revelations & Epiphanies

frosty morning ©kok 2021

"The rain and snow have given grace

to the dry and brittle things."

©kok 2019

"Love Rain!"

©Jenny Matsumoto 2021

Frozen drops - ©kok 2020

Water in its many forms has such beauty!

Forest Flurry - ©kok 2019

The snow fell heavily for hours today. Everything was blanketed and hushed.

The tiers of branches on the firs were heavily laden with snow. It's been years since this much snow fell in our neighborhood! A very welcome sight!

Ponta Barn Dream - ©kok 2021

"Let the rain come, for I am safe and warm in my home. Let it come with its serenade on the roof and steady drumming on the windows. From this cozy place I watch it enrich the sweet brown soils and make glossy every leaf. It is the liquid goodness that goes to the roots and brings the world to such health."

©Angela Abraham@daisydescriptionary - September 1, 2019.

Black Oak - Dendroalsia Moss - Imbricated Sword Fern - ©kok 2021

In the cold winter rain, moss and lichens spring to life,

while the oak trees wait for spring in thick coats of velvet green moss.

Storm Clouds - ©kok 2019

Oh no, wind don't blow,

bring us rain,

and bring us snow,

let dark grey clouds put on a show!

Black Oaks Highway 49 - ©kok 2017

"In a while the road roughened and went through woods. As the wagon hobbled over the humps, black clouds assembled and cast the earth in shadow. Harum-scarum gusts of wind turned the leaves this way and that. Then the rain they had hoped for came, with scattered drops as big as acorns slapping down, followed by a drubbing deluge. The road's dust disappeared and the world swam in water."

©William Steig Farmer Palmer's Wagon Ride

A fine film of moss covers the rock walls;

the rains have come again;

where once there was only the rust brown of rocks,

nature now is hanging her greens.

by Paul Guffin

"First winter storm November 2011: Welcome rain comes to the Colorado river near Glenwood Springs. I was traveling home on Amtrak through parched lands seeing whole Colorado mountainsides covered with dead pines. The first gentle drops on the window fell as we rode into the developing storm."

by Rod Bondurant

"Joshua Tree Spring shower February 2017: While camping and enjoying the spring flowers, we were treated to a gentle rain during the night, and woke to a dry desert transformed by damp sand and glistening rocks. A last quick shower gifted us with this scene as we left the park."

by Rochelle Bell

North Yuba Fall - kok ©2018

"A dank drizzle settled over the Highlands. By dawn the river had risen from a whisper to an urgent murmur. Mists shrouded the dark flow and clung between the bankside alders well into the morning. We awoke to a damp, rusting-away world of yellow and umber. The shortening days seemed to be draining the paling chlorophyll with them. Trails of fieldfares and redwings chattered across the sky and descended like archangels onto rowan trees now bright and laden with scarlet fruit, hurrying, stripping them bare, moving on in undulating squadrons as though they had some pressing appointment elsewhere."

by Sir John Lister Kaye - Gods of the Morning

American Robin eating Dogwood berries - kok ©2019

The following text and photo is from the website pluviophile.net. Check it out!

from pluviophile.net

"Pluviophile"

"Who is a pluviophile? The word “pluviophile” is a combination of two Latin words: “Pluvia” which means rain and “Phile”, a slang word used to describe a lover of something. The simple pluviophile meaning is: (n) a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

Simply put, therefore, a pluviophile is any person who derives joy and inner satisfaction from the smells and sounds that are associated with rain. It is anyone who finds the world more beautiful when it rains than when it doesn’t, grey skies more attractive than blue skies, the sound of raindrops on the roof music to their ears, and the scent of moist soil aromatic."

from pluviophile.net

Petrichor

pe·tri·chor | \ ˈpe-trə-ˌkȯr \

definition: a distinctive, earthy, usually pleasant odor that is associated with rainfall especially when following a warm, dry period and that arises from a combination of volatile plant oils and geosmin released from the soil into the air and by ozone carried by downdrafts

Australian scientists first documented the process of petrichor formation in 1964.

The intensity of the petrichor smell can vary with the type of soil and how heavily the rain is falling.

John Boyer

When those first fat drops of summer rain fall to the hot, dry ground, have you ever noticed a distinctive odor? … Of course rain itself has no scent. But moments before a rain event, an “earthy” smell known as petrichor does permeate the air. People call it musky, fresh—generally pleasant.

Tim Logan, Popular Science, 30 Aug. 2018

Embroidered fabric from India

“Nana always said the rain was nature’s way

of adding sparkle to the outdoors.”

by Mehmet Murat Ildan

"At four in the morning, on All Souls Day, The Day of the Dead, the second of November, the priest winning the betting pool, seven drops of water fell from the sky, headlong, pell-mell, sliding from the brooding mist, and then seventy, and then the gentle deluge, a whisper of wet, a thorough and persistent pittering on leaf mold and newt knuckle, web and wood, tent and vent, house and mouse, the rain splittering the sea, soaking boats, rinsing streets, fluffing owls and wetting towels, sliding along power lines and dripping from eaves, rivuleting and braiding and weaving tiny lines in the thirsty earth, darkening the trunks of trees, jewelling the strands of spiders, sliding along clotheslines, moistening the infinitesimal dust in rain gauges. The rain gags a thrush chick who opened her mouth because the rain sounds like her mama. A rushing rivulet saves a shrew who is about to be snagged by a snake. New trout having never seen rain on the river, rise eagerly to ripples on the Mink. Some windows close against the moist and some open for the music. Rain slips and slides along hawsers and chains and ropes and cables and gladdens the cells of mosses and weighs down the wings of moths. It maketh the willow shiver its fingers and thrums on doors of dens in the fens. It fall on hats and cats and trucks and ducks and cars and bars and clover and plover. It grayeth the sand on the beach and fills thousands of flowers to the brim. It thrills worms and depresses damselflies. Slides down every window rilling and murmuring. Wakes the ancient mud and mutter of the swamp, which has been cracked and hard for months. Falls gently on leeks and creeks and bills and rills and the last shriveled blackberries like tiny dried purple brains on the bristle of bushes. On the young bear trundling through a copse of oaks in the woods snorffling up acorns. On ferns and fawns, cubs and kits, sheds and redds. On salmon as long as your arm thrashing and roiling in the river. On roof and hoof, doe and hoe, fox and fence, duck and muck. "

from Mink River by Brian Doyle

Watercolor, gouache, & metallic pigment on paper

Kay Russell Art at Kayrussell.com

"My paintings are a composite of recollections and an evolution of the familiar. The paintings have grown from landscape representation toward the portrayal of spirit and atmosphere of place. I began to add rain to the landscapes, trying to convey the meditative poetry of the moment and the essence of atmosphere. I found that in doing “rain” paintings of places and things that I found meaningful, I was closer to portraying the mystery of their presence. In those paintings, it is intentionally unclear whether you are in the rain, looking out at the rain, or remembering it. The landscapes turned in to familiar objects. Rain accompanies images of my mother’s old hats, evening bags, family mementos, our dogwood tree, and personal treasures. Most recently, I have painted the image of an old “Camel Can” which always set on the family desk, and held a changing trove of treasures. The spirit of the Camel Can and other objects is reverent, whimsical, and often melancholy. And, it is not always raining.

In the beginning of the rain paintings, I painted the image first, and then began pouring, drizzling and dripping gouache over the top. I added and subtracted until the process felt complete. More recently, I have been starting the paintings by loosely painting or printing abstract, textural backgrounds before adding the images. Often I make the background by doing several layers of watercolor monotype color and texture before starting the painting. I find that this “jump starts” the work, throwing me into a moving process. I use gouache, gum arabic, various masks, and paint removal techniques that allow me to move freely through the work, change my mind, and incorporate mistakes. This activity emphasizes and facilitates the element of mystery and spirit. It is exciting, unpredictable and very much about the moment, each action and decision leading to the next."

Watercolor, gouache, & metallic pigment on paper

"The weather put on a show tonight. Great roars of thunder (rare in San Francisco) made me jump. The rain threw itself against the building at the head of my bed, sounding like applause against my window. It was gray against the blackness of the night and sounded like a train rushing through the tall eucalyptus trees around Arden Wood. The pavement was shiny with water and highlighted blurry reflections of the orange streetlights. The air was salty and fresh. All that energy outside made me restless."

"What art of waiting is practiced by the mosses, crisped and baking on the summer oak? They curl inward upon themselves, as if suspended in daydreams. And if mosses dream, I suspect they dream of rain."

by Robin Wall Kimmerer from Gathering Moss

"Rain in time of Chaos"

Made while packing up for a possible

evacuation from home

THOMAS MERTON LISTENS TO THE RAIN

"Let me say this before rain becomes a utility that they can plan and distribute for money. By “they” I mean the people who cannot understand that rain is a festival, who do not appreciate its gratuity, who think that what has no price has no value, that what cannot be sold is not real, so that the only way to make something actual is to place it on the market. The time will come when they will sell you even your rain. At the moment it is still free, and I am in it. I celebrate its gratuity and its meaninglessness.

The rain I am in is not like the rain of cities. It fills the wood with an immense and confused sound. It covers the flat roof of the cabin and its porch with insistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms I have not yet learned to recognize, rhythms that are not those of the engineer.

I came up here from the monastery last night, sloshing through the cornfield, said Vespers, and put some oatmeal on the Coleman stove for supper. It boiled over while I was listening to the rain and toasting a piece of bread at the log fire. The night became very dark. The rain surrounded the whole cabin with its enormous virginal myth, a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, of silence, of rumor. Think of it: all that speech pouring down, selling nothing, judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the wood with water, washing out the places where men have stripped the hillside! What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone, in the forest, at night, cherished by this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself all over the ridges, and the talk of the watercourses everywhere in the hollows!

Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks I am going to listen."

by Thomas Merton, Raids on The Unspeakable

"Up in the Lakes Basin this week, we watched

bubbles form when raindrops landed on the surface of Summit Lake! The bubbles only lasted for a few seconds, but it was amazing to watch! When a raindrop impacts a solid surface, a very thin film of air is entrapped under the drop and transforms into a bubble. It was beautiful to see."

Sandhill Cranes

Every year since I have moved to the foothills I have had the excitement of seeing and hearing the Sandhill Crane migration. The birds have a unique call as they fly, keeping in communication with others in the groups. That call can be heard and seen with the naked eye, even if they are flying at 4000 feet as they pass the foothills. There is a term that dates back hundreds of years—a sedge of cranes—that describes these groups.

The groups we see in the wetlands of the central valley during the winter from late September through early March are back in the Klamath Basin for spring and summer. They fly an average of 200-300 miles per day. Their wing span of 4-6 feet and their use of thermals and winds combine so the birds can cover these distances.

Cranes are one of the oldest known bird species. A fossil found in Nebraska dating from the Pliocene age (5.3 to 2.6 million years ago) appears identical to the modern sandhill crane.

In the west sandhills nearly went extinct. As settlements grew, habitat was destroyed and the birds were heavily hunted for food. The Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 ended commercial crane hunting and populations began to grow. Still in the 1940’s only five pairs remained in California.

Cranes are omnivorous, preferring wetlands both natural and those provided by private agricultural lands and refuges in the Central Valley. Near Walnut Grove in the Delta you can see many cranes on one of the small islands where the winter fields of corn stalks are full of vegetation, fish, and mammals. It’s a thrill to see the huge numbers, hear their deep chatter (their windpipe is 4 feet long), and to watch as they fly in and out. Sometimes they do short mating dances. At dusk they fly out in huge flights to spend the night in shallow water in large groups. To keep warm they are able to decrease the amount of blood that needs to be warmed by constricting blood vessels in their feet.

With the heavy smoke from our fires, I wondered if it interfered with flight and what effect it would have on birds. There are instances of birds crashing into unseable obstacles and like humans, they are breathing in particulate.

The increasing numbers of birds since the beginning of protective legislation is encouraging. Private land owners and bird management agencies such as the Adubon Society and Fish and Wildlife are continuing to work together to stablilize and grow the crane population as well as other birds on the Pacific Flyway.

In the meantime, look up and listen starting in late September. Do a rain dance. The birds need the water, as do we. Sign up for a trip with the Woodbridge Ecological Reserve and go to the Cosumnes River Refuge to see cranes as well as other wetland birds.

by Judith Bell

Clouds

All afternoon, Sir,

your ambassadors have been turning

into lakes and rivers.

At first they were just clouds, like any other.

Then they swelled and swirled; then they hung very still;

then they broke open. This is, I suppose,

just one of the common miracles,

a transformation, not a vision,

not an answer, not a proof, but I put it

there, close against my heart, where the need is, and it serves

the purpose. I go on, soaked through, my hair

slicked back;

like corn, or wheat, shining and useful.

by Mary Oliver

Box of Rain

Look out of any window

Any morning, any evening, any day

Maybe the sun is shining

Birds are winging or rain is falling from a heavy sky

What do you want me to do

To do for you to see you through?

For this is all a dream we dreamed
One afternoon long ago

Walk out of any doorway

Feel your way, feel your way like the day before

Maybe you'll find direction
Around some corner where it's been waiting to meet you
What do you want me to do
To watch for you while you were sleeping?
Then please don't be surprised
When you find me dreaming too

Look into any eyes, you find by you

You can see clear to another day

Maybe been seen before
Through other eyes on other days while going home
What do you want me to do
To do for you to see you through?
It's all a dream we dreamed
One afternoon long ago

Walk into splintered sunlight

Inch your way through dead dreams to another land

Maybe you're tired and broken
Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken
And thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do
To do for you to see you through
A box of rain will ease the pain
And love will see you through

Just a box of rain

Wind and water

Believe it if you need it
If you don't, just pass it on
Sun and shower

by the Grateful Dead

Rain and rain and raining,

it rained again today,

hoping that these clouds stay here,

and wash this drought away.

Rain and rain and raining,

such a lovely sound,

watching all the raindrops fall,

and soak into the ground.

Stormy Sierra

The Sandhills are flying a thousand feet high

West to the valley they quiver and cry

And the song that they sing is the oldest of tunes

And the earth trembles and the clouds gather, and the rolling thunder and the rain comes down

A cold wind is blowing the leaves tumble down

Red yellow orange they carpet the ground

And the cottonwoods sparkle in silver and gold

And the earth trembles and the clouds gather, and the flash of lightning and the rain comes down

From the east to the west hear the calling

From the north the cold wind does blow

And the earth trembles and the clouds gather, and the crash of thunder and the rain comes down

The shadows grow longer the river runs low

High country restless with promise of snow

The sunlight of summer fades fast from the sky

And the earth trembles and the clouds gather and the flash of lightning and the rain comes down

photo from Awakin.org

The Way of Water

We have glamorized the way of the warrior for millennia. We have identified it as the supreme test and example of courage, strength, duty, generosity, and manhood. If I turn from the way of the warrior, where am I to seek those qualities? What way have I to go?

Lao Tzu says: the way of water.

The weakest, most yielding thing in the world, as he calls it, water chooses the lowest path, not the high road. It gives way to anything harder than itself, offers no resistance, flows around obstacles, accepts whatever comes to it, lets itself be used and divided and defiled, yet continues to be itself and to go always in the direction it must go. The tides of the oceans obey the Moon while the great currents of the open sea keep on their ways beneath. Water deeply at rest is yet always in motion; the stillest lake is constantly, invisibly transformed into vapor, rising in the air. A river can be dammed and diverted, yet its water is incompressible: it will not go where there is not room for it. A river can be so drained for human uses that it never reaches the sea, yet in all those bypaths and usages its water remains itself and pursues its course, flowing down and on, above ground or underground, breathing itself out into the air in evaporation, rising in mist, fog, cloud, returning to earth as rain, refilling the sea.

Water doesn’t have only one way. It has infinite ways, it takes whatever way it can, it is utterly opportunistic, and all life on Earth depends on this passive, yielding, uncertain, adaptable, changeable element.

The flow of a river is a model for me of courage that can keep me going — carry me through the bad places, the bad times. A courage that is compliant by choice and uses force only when compelled, always seeking the best way, the easiest way, but if not finding any easy way still, always, going on.

by Ursula LeGuin

“The Rainforest is Crying to be Saved”

7 clouds – 8 feet tall. Cloth strips, paint and string.

“Nightfall”

The First Rain

It's been 59 days since it last rained,

Everywhere, in business offices, homes, streetcars,

Department stores and parks,

The subject has been weather

As sunburned eyes turned to smog filled skies.

And now, right in the middle of the day, it is raining!

It falls with great speed

In disciplined pale white lines

yet ends its descent with a soft splash

And runs to the thirsty earth.

The accumulating water on roof and

Window edge falls more slowly, yet

More heavily, in a noisy irregular splop!

Sounding like a nervous pencil tapper

Beating an unsteady rhythm on a desk top,

Then fanning out in a quick spray like

Shattering glass, which in turn falls gently

As the drops from the sky.

I have this mad desire to run out of the house

And down to the park at the corner

To take off my shoes and socks

Run barefoot through the cooling blades of grass

Open my mouth and drink the raindrops

Then, somehow, magically, gather every drop that

Falls on the cement and asphalt

To save for another dry time.

by Betsy O'Hara

Damp Earth

"Spring Rain" ©kok 2001

©Brian Doyle, Mink River

Staten Island Wetlands ©kok 2020

by the Grateful Dead

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