From my window, the air over the pasture is pale blue with humidity left over from last night’s rain. From the front porch, we hear the creek murmur–weakly, recovering from a month of losing its voice–and from under the maple at the edge of the yard and the forest beyond Nameless creek, the gentle plop-plunk of raindrops falling leaf to leaf to ground.
From deeper in the woods where this picture was taken a few days back, fat raindrops sound as if they were falling on a cardboard box. The broad leaves of Ann’s favorite Frazier Magnolia tree at the edge of the pasture make a sound so distinctive in the aftermath of a storm that my ear knows the species by the sound of rain splatting on its leaves. Larger Image link.