Last night, I came home after work and spent approximately three minutes in the house—just long enough to change into workout gear—before heading back out the door to my Pilates session. Sometimes a girl just has to get her Reformer on.
After my session, I drove home, and actually contemplated not going out to the garden. It was nearly 8 p.m. For all the weatherman lies about the whole “heat emergency” being “over,” ovenlike winds still swept up the street outside my house. Apparently, no one told the actual “weather” about the “end of emergency.” I just wanted a cold beer, a refreshing salad, and an episode of Veronica Mars: Season 1 on the DVD player.
But that garden, well, it has some sort of siren call. I’d barely begun assembling my salad when I began wondering what garden goodies I could incorporate. Grape tomatoes, I thought. Of course.
I wandered outside and began selecting the reddest of the tomatoes, collecting them in my left palm as I moved down the row of pots. Suddenly, something slapped me in the right cheek.
“Stupid bug,” I said, not even looking around to see what wasp or beetle or spider had just whacked me.
Ponder that, for a moment, those of you who have known me to shriek at the sight of bugs. I thought a bug hit me in the face, and didn’t even care. Behold the power of gardening.
But then, something else slapped me in the forehead. And the back of my neck under my ponytail. And my forearm.
I straightened, my palm brimming with tomatoes, and turned my face up, catching the full force of what I had realized were rain drops. Out there, in the back yard, with not even George to keep me company, I began to laugh out loud. The rain answered by accelerating, dotting my shirt with fat, wet circles and further dampening my upturned face.
In seconds, the rain turned into a downpour, and still I stood there, laughing more quietly now, letting it cool me down. Above me, clouds scooted across the sky, and, nearly as soon as it had started, the rain began to abate. In a few minutes, it was gone, leaving damp sidewalks behind.
I carried my tomatoes inside and finished making my salad. This wasn’t the big rain that was due in on the approaching cold front. And sure, I still worried about those eggplants surviving the juglone dripline. But after days of hot weather, the rain was a welcome few minutes of pure refreshment.