Storms where I live in rain battered California

 

I've been sending this photo to friends and relatives all over the USA, since our California rain storms are very destructive and in the national news. The photo shows the street that runs along the ocean, or what is left of the street. Half of the street has collapsed due to violent wave action.

This is about six streets over from my house. Closer to home, thus far is OK. Two blocks from my house where Bounce and I walk every day, the street along the ocean is undamaged thus far. I have several friends who live in the mountains outside of town and they are stuck in their houses due to road closures. Mudslides and fallen trees are closing roads and they periodically lose power. The rains are a blessing and yet now we are hoping they will stop soon and let the water soak in or run off. 

There was no rain in my town on Sunday January 8 and I dared to drive to church Sunday and attend the small group gathering of 25 friends. My spirits were very lifted to be in fellowship with such good people. I did not attend the larger church service since I am mostly avoiding indoor gatherings. Especially since I live alone, I need to see people! Be well and safe friends.

The above was posted Jan. 11, and today, Jan. 18 I am happy to see the sunshine and no rain. Hurray.

Rain, God and People, a Poem

Rain drop
Originally uploaded by play4smee

Dear Friends Around the World, I have been thinking about Hurricane Irene and all the flooding going on now in areas including Vermont, and hoping all of you are well.
Here is a poem about the gentler side of rain that makes my soul sing; we gardeners know how precious rain is, in the right amounts and time, and I love the last stanza.
Terra 
I Saw God Wash the World

I saw God wash the world last night
With his sweet showers on high,
And then, when morning came, I saw
Him hang it up to dry.

He washed each tiny blade of grass
And every trembling tree;
He flung his showers against the hill,
And swept the billowing sea.

The white rose is a cleaner white,
The red rose is more red,
Since God washed every fragrant face
And put them all to bed.

There’s not a bird; there’s not a bee
That wings along the way
But is a cleaner bird and bee
Than it was yesterday.

I saw God wash the world last night,
Ah, would He had washed me
As clean of all my dust and dirt
As that old white birch tree.

By William L. Stidger