After many weeks of warm weather with dry winds, today lovely grey clouds moved in. When I got home from school this afternoon it had already rained once (only 0.1", but I prize every drop that patters down on this dry place of ours). I went out and weeded my friends the thistles for awhile on the hillsides. Great fun, but after filling three trash bags with them and pulling out numerous stickers from my fingers, it was time for a change of scenery.
Bruce had told me that the larkspur I'd planted by the baby oaks along the road there were spectacular this spring. The dogs and I took a walk to see.
The man was right.
They came in every shade of purple, ranging from almost white to almost blue. I've never had so many. It's a wonder that they would bloom so extravagently in such a dry spring.
The colors glowed against the drying grasses.
Then, to my delight, a new bank of rainclouds rolled in. The lightning flashed, thunder boomed across the hills and finally lovely splooshes of warm rain were released right over us.
Every wildflower on the place gave a sigh of relief. I sighed with them.