For the last few weeks, my yard and gardens have received just the right amount of rain to let me see how lovely life could be if, every night or day, three-tenths of an inch fell from the sky. Ireland’s lush greets me when I step outside. My daily watering ritual temporarily disappears. Some mornings, like today, I dump water from pots that overflow to prepare for today’s additional promises. This illusional bounty lets me fantasize about living in a lush landscape. I cast a wistful spell to keep cloud cover and raindrops overhead for as long as possible. For the moment, I believe with all my soul that our decades long drought ended without anyone taking note. I pretend we won’t suffer through a hundred days of a hundred degrees. I embrace this period of rightness without expectation it will last beyond the next few days.
Copyright 2026 Elizaabeth Abrams Chapman
IOUNIO's "Swimming"
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