by Cathleen Elise Rossiter
This morning, as I was putting books away in my bedroom bookcase, I came upon one of my favorite paintings. My friend, Michele Rousseau, an artist whom I met in Monaco ten years ago this August, sent me a handcrafted card with an original, small-scale version of the painting to the left. My card depicts a lime-green sprout emerging from the earth, soaked in golden rain. Accompanying the painting is a verse about the golden rain falling to earth to nourish the poet.
Having now had a full day’s respite from our recent two-day (much-needed) deluge here in the Boston, MA area, I am again grateful for the rain. As Michele so rightly points out, rain is the source of our nourishment. Without rain, we have no crops and no habitat for the fish, therefore, no food. Rain washes and cleanses our bodies and environments, keeping us healthy. Without rain, we dry up, physically, and die.
Beyond the physical life that rain provides us, rain brings with it a sense of hope, renewal, and possibility. Rain clears our minds with its rhythmic patter, drowning out the noise that keeps us from seeing what we wish to avoid. Rain washes away the clutter, uncovering new growth and surprises as it rushes down hills over soil and streets, rural and urban territory alike. Rain reminds us that life is good, regardless of what life might be throwing at us right now. Rain reminds us that droughts do not last forever. Flood waters do recede. Dry land appears, bringing with it signs of lush life and hope of good things to come.
Merci, Michele, pour votre amitié, votre gentillesse et vos encouragements dans mon écriture. Je vous remercie pour le déluge dorée.