Reservoirs Aplenty

By Jeanne Moseley

Not only has it been 66 days, at this writing, since our last rainfall, but the hot temperatures are breaking records. I watch the birds take unnecessary chances as they swoop down to drink from our cat's water bowl, and I notice the squirrels stay hidden as though a heavy winter snow was upon them.

Air conditioners clank and grind as they struggle to cool the indoor air, and no living creature seems to be interested in moving about. Our news reports have been full of heat-related warnings and offerings of all sorts of advice, not coupled with promises of relief.

The trees that surround our home stand some 45 to 50 feet, with ancestry dating back almost 100 years. In the background, an array of smaller trees and brush define our land from neighboring lots. If I pray for rain, it's mostly for them. How tired and parched their leaves have become, one waterless week after the other.

It's now, more than ever, the towering trees depend on their mature roots and the deep reservoir that Mother Nature provides. The landscape, more dependent on the surface, struggles to survive. I can't help but notice how these conditions copy many of our own, human circumstances. It's as if you can almost hear the wise, old oaks whisper, "Hang on. The rain will come. It always does."

Early of the morning, I often drive the country roads near home, but the heat that builds during the day makes these journeys even more timely for me now. Today, I drove eastward into the sunrise and noticed how the dry lands became objects of beauty rather than dried up pasture. What has always been a special place for me became even more so as I drove past familiar farmhouses. Not all, but many of them, were once known to me by the families who called them home. That was the "Curry place" or "George's farm." We never knew their address. It just was a space that belonged to them.

Through droughts, high winds and heavy rains, this hometown area has provided a deep reservoir for me. My roots lie deep into a protected place and, though there might be spots to dwell in cooler climates, it's here that I find my comfort and a sense of "just being."

While I may become downhearted from the heat or from life's many challenges, never mistake me for pessimistic. Everyday is a homecoming for me. It's with each day that I am surrounded by people and places whose voices seem to whisper, "Hang on. The rain will come. It always does."