Restful Rain

    Besides being a season of undecided deciduous, today is a day of restful rain. In this north country, even on August nights, there is a whisper of fall that speaks in a voice, beyond hearing, but somehow still felt, "Soon there will be rest. Soon there will be rest."  The land has nearly finished its summer labor of growing, the harvest will soon be gathered, rest will come. When the rain falls I can stay in the house with no guilt over neglected chores outside. God is watering my flowers and washing my unpicked apples. I can read the books I neglect during my perpetual running of errands. I can indulge this infernal drive to write.  In the diminished light my house looks clean. The hum of the dryer in the laundry room comforts like a lullaby. Peace lies like a blanket over the animals and me; I unashamedly take a nap. It is excuse enough to be able to say, "It was raining."