The trees have gone brown
The drought has taken it’s toll
The rain brings promise
The browning of trees began with just a tinge, a suggestion of stress from this long dry. As summer began, in spring, the already crisp earth desiccating as we watched. The river all but evaporated, becoming a series of ponds…then puddles…then cracking mud.
Many of the seeds I planted refused to sprout. Those that did perished, curling up in the unrelenting dry.
Then lightening struck. Thunder rumbles.
And the fire came. In a Flash
And still it was not summer.
Our property was defended. It was a long and hard fight. The demon was seeking to devour all. The winds whipped around, trees exploded, the already low water supply was sacrificed.
And our property was saved.
And then. Summer came.
The fire had passed us, but still devoured…now creeping along torturing the landscape and all who call it home. Smoke filled our lungs. We descended into despair. Constant vigilance. Anxious times. The fire spread, and others roared. The entire country was burning.
And there was no leader.
But there was community.
And they rallied. They held strong.
They worked together.
And it was a sight to behold.
And the forest responded too. It would not be destroyed. Changed. Renewed . Adapting. Strong.
Then the rain came. And kept coming.
The river ran again, it bulged and raced with joy, taking with it the blackness.
As all calmed, the green came. The long ago planted seeds, sprouted. Grass vigorously made up for lost time.
And the browning trees…