A Dry Month

To paraphrase T.S. Eliot: Here I am, an old woman in a dry month. . . waiting for rain.

The last couple of weeks have been hot (90s!) and dry in my part of Virginia. The weather has been great for cutting hay, but not for growing it. I fear that the fall cutting won't amount to much. Our lawn is brown and crispy; ditto for our fields.  The corn across the road is shriveling up.

Many areas to our west, south, and north have had rain—major showers, even. But the rain escaped us. I was optimistic that yesterday afternoon's forecast would bring us a hard, soaking downpour. It brought a light shower that barely wet the lawn. Nothing to soak in. Before long, the sun was out again.

But it did bring us a rainbow in the east:

In the west, the sky was clearing. . . 

. . . and it soon started to clear in the east.

. . . Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season.

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