Word is a mighty big rain is coming, as in a possible five to six inches over two days. Now one would expect I would be over joyed by such news in the midst of an extreme drought and surrounded by wild fires. My joy is tempered.
The ground has long since turned to concrete. It will take some coaxing to absorb all that water. Hard rain, solid ground and freshly burned slopes are a recipe for gully washing and flash flooding. This big rain could make a big mess.
We will take this rain gladly. There is no other choice. Pray that the fires are extinguished and hope erosion is kept to a minimum. More importantly, let this signal the end of the dry spell.
It is the winter storms that bit by bit press the remaining herbaceous vegetation back into the earth. I appreciate the assistance and certainly prefer to wait before cutting things down myself. The grasses are left to stand as long as possible. Properly frozen and dried they can stand all winter.
Properly frozen, the grasses turn blond. A metamorphosis occurs. Plants cells are transformed into a crystalline substance that plays brilliantly with the winter's low angle sunshine. My morning view is sublime.
All around the meadows, the transformation to dust is in full swing. Rain may soften things up, but snow and wind do most of the hard pressing. The time for that will come.
There is one last order of business before winter sets in. Above the cracked pot, on the edge of a forest, the native Witch Hazels bloom.
They are a having a very full bloom year which is nice. Still, they don't match the show of the late winter blooming hybrid Witch Hazels. I can have both.
Amber waves of meadow frozen blond on top light up the morning. It's nice when I don't have to leave and can watch the whole show.