Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Summer Fiction

Let me tell you, internet, that with all the aggravations that life has to offer I sometimes find myself wishing that I lived in Dren, child luring honeysuckle and all.

I could really use a rain like this now.

Prompt No.5: Rain

Gray clouds clustered on the horizon and grew darker with each passing moment. As calmly as they could, the farmers rushed to get the last of the seeds planted. Some even recruited the young children to help fill in the last few rows. Everyone had caught the frantic excitement that was building underneath those storm clouds.

Once the citizens of Dren were sure that the frosts were over, they set about their planting. The fields had been plowed and tilled, the rows laid out in preparation. Seed Time, that is what the farmers called it.

Everyone helped, even those that didn’t farm. The blacksmith stayed busy fixing broken tools and the merchants made ready for the Dance. No one was left idle in the days before the rain.

There had been rain all through the winter and the spring flowers soaked up the light drizzles that had fallen, but when the crops were sowed all the people in Dren looked to the south for the summer rains. The south wind brought the warm, sun soaked clouds to the field lands. Only rains from these clouds could ensure a good harvest.

Some folks remembered the years when all they could get was western rain, hard rocky rains from the mountains. The crops grew, but they were not good. Only a strong southern rain would do.

The winds had been still all day and the sun was merciless. The farmers and their children worked through it all with a scarcely hidden hope. The setting sun was quickly obscured by the roiling clouds and it gave a last defiant burst of color before as the clouds closed in. All the fields were planted and the citizens of Dren gathered at the pavilion in the center of town. There was an anxious silence, not even the swaddling babies cried.

A breeze stirred, a cool breeze. Wind chimes hanging on the porch of the inn sounded in unison, the clear metallic pall carrying into the pavilion. The trees began to sway in time with the tune of the wind. A murmur grew and rippled in the crowd. All the sky was dark now. A sudden gust of wind brought the sounds of thunder from the south. In the blink of an eye the rain was falling.

It was a steady rain and it carried the smell of a long and fruitful summer. The wind pushed at the drops of rain, swirling and twisting them so that at times it seemed there were dances in the falling rain.

This was the sign that the people of Dren had been waiting for. All the citizens, young and old bounded into the refreshing rain. The merchants began to play under the pavilion while everyone danced in the blessing of the southern storm. Thunder rolled above them and mingled with the sound of fiddles and laughter.

There would be a good harvest this year.

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