Last night I drifted off to sleep listening to thunder echo off the mountains, over the rolling hills of the Big Scarecorn Creek valley. An hour later, something woke me and for some reason I went to the window and saw the highway was black wet. I ran downstairs and threw my arms around Larry. It was raining. This morning I drove through the darkness, glorying in the last bits of rain and drizzle as it, too, moved south. The rich smell of rain in the early morning is indeed a blessing. As you may know from my earlier blogs, the drought has been devastating.  Every drop of rain is precious to us.

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