I stand on the south porch, just takin in the spring night. The air is warm, with a gentle breeze that caresses the brim of my hat . As a rule, warm spring evenings are a joy to experience, both in sight and sound, and this night is no exception. I stand quietly with my hands clasped, elbows resting on the top rail of the porch and one boot on the bottom one. Nearby, the water cascading over the rocks and falling into the pool of water below, keeps a sleepy, comfortable rhythm. An owl hoots his approval of the evening from a tree in the woods to the south. And the night birds are gently adding their two cents worth from their nighttime perches. Frogs offer up a mixed chorus for my listening pleasure. Tree frogs, pond frogs, and maybe a toad or two all join in to praise this beautiful night, or perhaps to welcome the coming storm. Georgie, the cat, moves onto the porch and leaps into her favorite chair. She lifts her nose a little then settles in. The smell of rain is in the air.
Off to the southwest, lightning adds neon rims to the clouds that produced it. Long stretches of yellow blue arcs travel across the heavens. Each flash of light reveals thick cumulus billows of white and purple that are otherwise hidden in the darkness. A distant rumbling expresses the potential of this storm and the wind quickens just a little to prepare us for its coming. I feel a drop in the temperature and hope this is a sign that rain is coming near. We need it. We all watch and wait, the night creatures and I.
I stand for a while and listen to the song of the wind in the pines and cedars. The birds and reptiles maintain their recital. But the storm continues its movement to the south east, away from the Chicken Ranch. Rain is so close that I can feel its presence, smell the water that we need. But tonight there will only be a light show and a freshening breeze. Rain falls on other fields and towns instead. I’m disappointed, and I think the night creatures here are too. As I open the storm door, the creak of the hinges silences the nearest tree frogs. I turn to say “ No rain tonight. Maybe next time friends..." The frogs return to their peeping as I step into the house. Before closing the door I add “...but I do appreciate the company.”
