Here comes the Rain

'I've been waiting for so long, I've been listening for your song'

Mount Wilson—home of the Wilson Observatory on January 27, 2025, after the Eaton fire and after the first rains in nine months

In a late October post, 'The Scent of Rain' I wrote

"November approaches and I'm listening for the rain."

Those gentle rains of November/December never arrived and summer's thirsty land in Southern California has gone up in smoke and fire and taken most of a town with it. A town of homes, friends, schools, cars and bicycles, books, houses of worship, trees and roses, pots and pans, businesses--everything that we take for granted each day.

Last Saturday, I sat on a bench in the garden behind my house grateful it is still here and waited again for rain. Hoping, hurting, waiting like this:

I can feel the rain coming, I can hear it coming. I watch clouds curtain the mountains, the temperature is dropping and I wish I had a coat. Winds roll and stretch an uneven pastry of clouds across the sky, some still puffed and round, others gray and heavy with moisture, closing in on occasional patches of blue. More and more moist air pours over the mountains and across the valley and the cloud cover lowers with agitated air, pushing and pulling, darkening the sky, but still —no rain.

I can hear my own disquiet in the tired trees and bushes still dusted with ash and calls of birds responding to the change of weather. A congregation of crows are waiting in a bare liquid amber tree, there are probably 25 crows sitting in that tree, watching clouds with me. They're cawing and carrying on. A few start to take off and then come back— false start. Then all at once, they all lift and take off in a swirl of noise. They fly in a big, wide circle and I'm inside that circle. I'm not what they're swirling around, but I'm in their circle, I share their flight. It goes wide and around me and swings back over towards that same tree, but they don't land. They rise higher and carry on to the east in an efficient evacuation. The caws fade away.

I'm wondering where the crows will go, it is supposed to be a large wide storm, and then whoosh, a large bird flies past my shoulder. Startled, I turn but I can't see him, I look but don't see where he is. He takes off again, rattling his striped tail right next to me which is about all I see as he spreads it and lifts. Come back, give me another try. I think it was a juvenile Coopers Hawk, I have seen him in my trees a couple of times, very gangly and awkward. I can hear him screeching in a tree near by and then he flies off the same way as the crows and his shrieks fade away.

I see a young squirrel peeking out from the low saddle branches where the hawk had landed and I begin to understand the storyline, no wonder he is wailing.

Maybe ten minutes later, a little humming bird comes and lands on the same branch. I worry about hummingbirds in a cold rain. They burn so many calories, their hearts beat so fast, they barely have the energy to get through the night. I think about all the birds that have lost the trees that they relied on for their shelter, for their hunting, for their food, for their nests. These trees around me are still here, these birds are too and I'm grateful for them even as I lament with all who've lost so much.

I finally got too cold waiting and went inside. At 2 AM I heard the rain drumming on the roof, I love that sound. The bedroom has windows on three sides and I can hear gutters gush on all sides. I'm wide awake and go to the front door and out into the rain, it is windy, dark and raining hard--cold and wet. It’s here.

Laurie Lewis singing "Here comes the Rain”—(click 3 bars in top right corner for full song on Spotify.) Please let me know if it doesn’t work right , something new for me!¹

(Partial Lyrics)

It's been silent as death, I've been holding my breath

Now you've returned

Only you can quench this burning in my chest

I need a cold and icy touch, I just can't get enough

Here comes the rain

My heart's about to burst like these clouds

Ive been so long thirsty, but it's almost over now

The first few drops just raise the dust

The next few drops restore my trust

Like a loving hand can ease the pain,

Here comes the rain.

(Laurie Lewis/Spruce and Maple Music ASCAP)

1. Song “Here Comes the Rain”, Laurie Lewis/Spruce and Maple Music ASCAP.