Dihydrogen monoxide: essential, yet deadly. What other substance on earth has claimed so many lives and fueled so many bitter conflicts? We often take it for granted, but we can’t go a week without it. There are nefarious souls who would bottle it up at the natural source and sell it back to us at a profit, and we are eager to buy, as if replenishing ourselves from anything that might have touched the ground and gone unsanitized by man is distasteful and tastes bad. The irony of it is, we’ve done much to ensure the truth of that.
Gray, chilly, and drizzling. That’s the weather, here. The clouds are drab and thick with unshed rain. Now and then, they drift, heave a sigh, and drip.
Thirsty green things unfurl to catch raindrops in cupped leaves.
Moss is fascinating to feed, droplet by tiny droplet, under a microscope. It opens to absorb moisture, then closes again when it’s had enough. It grows dry and sparse and brown when there’s a drought, but it always comes back. Houston’s one of the few places on earth where I’ve seen concrete turn green from growing things in the humidity.
The pale, dull greens take on deeper, more vivid hues. Water droplets gather and slide towards stems, running in wet rivulets to waiting roots.
White blossoms with purple anthers stretch their petals wide in anticipation. Everything is damp. A lone, black legged and crimson Assassin bug waits patiently. The first few drops begin to fall in earnest as the wind ruffles the leaves of the trees like a playful lover.
Still, silent – this afternoon’s showers have renewed activity in strange places, like the weighted base of a neglected basketball hoop.
Rainwater collects life, just as life collects rainwater.
These tiny peppers are hot! And they look like sunshine to my rain-drenched eyes. I am so ready to see the sun again.
Even if it’s just a peek, a furtive glimpse – like this photo of my next door neighbor’s pond and waterfall in the back yard:
Time to head indoors, as the temperatures begin to plummet.
Watery bamboo swamps are good places for ninjas to hide:
He has turned up in the oddest places, over the years. I don’t remember, now, where he came from, but he has managed to avoid “toy heaven” all this time, so I figured – hey, he’s purple – he deserved to be retired with a little dignity.
Very little, but fortunately, purple ninjas don’t whine. They just drink your wine when you’re not looking. They’re very stealthy, and their purple color lets them hide among the grapes.
Deep below the surface water he hides in, and the rocks that he climbs, the bamboo shoots out roots that look like a map of brain activity. It’s amazing how some plants seemingly thrive on nothing but water, much the way some people thrive on nothing but hot air.
I was born near the ocean, in the month of March. Pisces is a water sign, and my birthstone is aquamarine. Is it any wonder I love the water?
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