breather
To go outside is to receive a Texas blessing.
We had rain last night. Not just rain, either, but some kind of microburst. For a few minutes, it rained as hard as I’ve ever seen here. It rained so hard you could have gone for a walk out there and died. You wouldn’t even have needed to tip your beak to the sky. Just walking around trying to breathe might have killed you–though chances are good you would have been struck by lightning before you had a chance to drown.
So the morning dawned power-washed and sparkly. Most of the wet had been sucked up by parched ground. The alarm-clock bird got busy. Mockingbirds resumed territorial dispute soon afterwards. Manic cardinals are flashing the dogs, a couple of butterflies have turned up, the hens are cackling madly, the tomato seedlings are growing. And I don’t have to do taxes today.
‘Round here, we’re happy as kings.
