There's a rainstorm/windstorm/thunderstorm in the middle of June. It's kind of miserable for us, sitting inside, staring at computers, withstanding the grueling process of editing dissertations. But the trees--the trees' leaves and branches look like they're swinging, headbanging, turning, dancing. Their trunks like the strong, defined arms of a dance partner. The grass shivers, as if its giggling.
How genuinely nice it must be for the rain to feel so appreciated, so needed. What a reward for such a responsibility.