There's a splatter of rain drops on the porch.
A hint of a rumble of thunder.
Our porch is made for storms, with an awning where you can stand and nearly be part of the weather, but not quite. And for the summer storms that rain straight down, your feet can be inches from the drops. The splatters. But never touch.
The cool weather is rolling in, and my knitting fingers are grateful.
Frankly, my whole body is grateful.
A deep breath of cool stormy air and balance is restored. The breeze coming off of the river and into my kitchen breathes air into my skirt and the house comes alive and dances a little. Beets may roast in the oven without causing brows to sweat, tomato plants may drink from the sky, and children may sleep peacefully.
This. This is my kind of summer. The summer storm, the break after days of hot, the relief.