Washed Away


Little boy – big umbrella – Oy!

Rainy season. Not much fun. Umbrellas are an inconvenience. I hate umbrellas. Well, I take that back. When umbrellas are tiny and they call them parasols used by pretty young ladies – then they look cute.



Lady with a parasol (Monet)

I woke up this morning to the sound of falling rain. The gutter downspout was loud. The rushing water sometimes made sounds like colliding pebbles in a small echo chamber. I bent down to touch my toes and felt the effect of the stretch. The rain kept falling.



Down the drain spout go our refuse and things we toss out

Water sloshed down the concrete downspout catch that stretched about five feet into the hydrangea beds. Bet the gardenia plants were happy; they are always thirsty. No doubt the other flowers were celebrating too. Inside and in the comfort of my room I felt great. Another day, a wet day – but hey, we all need the water.



Lord wash away my sins

I said a quick prayer: “Thank you God for sending your word in with the rain. Thanks for not forgetting to water the grass. Thanks for the water rushing down the ditches – I know the waters will sweep clean the waste and refuse we irresponsibly tossed there – symbols of our profligate life. Lord, thanks for making me feel


At the end of a Rainbow… lies a pot of gold

special and washing away my sin.”


Soon there will be a rainbow visible. It will arch over the willowy bamboo clumps and the coconut trees.

The rain will be down to a trickle – if that – with the dark clouds retreating toward the open sea.

I love rainbows, don’t you?