913. The sound of rain needs no translation. ~Alan Watts

 Listen to the pouring rain;
Listen to it pour.
Let it rain all night long
‘Cause our need for it’s so strong.
Listen to the falling rain;
Listen to it rain….
~Excerpted and adapted lyrics from a song
recorded by José Feliciano

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On soil long in need of a drink, the autumn rain that began here before bedtime last night and continued on through the night and into the wee hours of the morning was not only useful but also calming and cause for great joy. It had been almost 4 months since we had had any rain, and I’d begun to fear we were entering the throes of another drought. However, the six inches of rain that fell has done much to allay those fears. It has been said that rain is not only drops of water; but also that it is the love of sky for earth. I would add that is the love of God for man as well. Besides being good for the soil, rain is a sweet, lullaby that brings peace and sings to the soul. Thus, as the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and fortuitous rain tapped out its haunting melodies on the roof, I was the happy recipient of hours of contentment. Humbling and holy were the answered prayers that ended months of drought-like conditions, and acknowledging God’s presence in the blessing deepened, as always, my sense of how sacred and hallowed even the simplest of things is. Being the pluviophile that I am, rain never fails to blanket me in great comfort as it reminds me of the basic goodness of life and the overwhelming goodness of God.

It’s raining, it’s pouring;
The old man is snoring.
He went to sleep to the rhythm of the rain
And it was hard to get up the next morning.
~Altered nursery rhyme

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I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit. ~Leviticus 16:4  ✝

What do the wise among us see


“Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. ‘You have grown, Halfling,’ he said. ‘Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. you have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell.”
J.R.R. Tolkien

(a curious jackdaw watches from the crumbling walls at The Rock of Cahsel, County Tipperary, Ireland / Julie Cook / 2015)

What of those wise men…
those sages of days long past…
those perceptive foreign kings who would travel from far far away in search of the…

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