I’m watching the rain pouring down outside my house as I eat lunch today. Big, fat, ploppy drops. Heavy water running in rivulets down the gutters of the streets, washing away dust, leaves that have been blown from the trees in the last few days from strong winds. Tree seeds that have popped from the branches hanging over the boulevards are pushed down and away from my neighborhood, to be carried to a new location, in the hopes of propagating the trees somewhere else.
I hope that the oak trees in my beloved Oak Park will be alright. It takes an oak tree 50 years to mature enough to produce acorns. That’s a long time to wait for your chance at offspring.
The trees in my backyard have recovered from their heavy pruning we did last summer, growing tall and leafy again. It doesn’t take them long at all to replace what was lost a year ago. They sprout up, unbidden, and get mowed down in the fall – to reappear the next spring.
Everything has its own time, its own life span. Some things take longer than others, and we have to learn patience for those things that take their time in appearing, growing. It can be difficult to wait, but it’s most often worth it.
There are days when I love the rain.
Today is one of them.
Time to go back to work.
