When the rain finally arrived it came with such force that the water in the small pool became a cascade of what seemed to be small fountains leaping upward in graceful silver parabolic curves, with each drop creating a balletic dance of nature and geometry. The sound on the bright green hawthorn was a steely crescendo that acted as a counterpoint to the booming thunder that had been rumbling in the skies to the south for some time; like shimmering cymbals amidst an uneven unpredictable rhythm of drums. It had been as if nature was giving me time to prepare for the small apocalypse that now fell upon me. Sparrows delved deeper into the burgeoning growth for shelter while bees continued their foraging for pollen amongst the rosemary as if nothing had changed even as huge droplets collided with a select few, their bodies sent careering momentarily in wild and unpredictable directions. Undeterred by the random and apparent violent force of such a chance encounter, the unfortunate victim simply returned to the prior task as if nothing of any importance at all had occurred.
Drenched by the storm, entranced by the magic of the moment I gazed upon this hypnotic scene as the parched earth became enriched and nourished by the torrent; the heady scent of rain on dry soil filled my senses with the sheer joy of being alive to witness and experience such miracles. Enchantment seemed to be palpable; all I needed to do was stretch out a hand to touch it.
As quickly as it arrived, the storm passed; moving ever north westward the rain came to an abrupt and unexpected end and the sounds of its passing began to quietly fade into the distance and memory. The sun reappeared where a few moments ago there had been dark clouds; the garden now steamed with the heat and humidity of the day as the calming gentle murmur of bees and birds returned.