Sunday 8 July 2001

Pic of the day: After the rain. Picture from Åros.

Lord of the rains

I was sitting in front of my computer, playing Transport Tycoon. I was feeling a bit shabby, but this was hardly surprising since yesterday I had eaten nothing except milk and sweets. Oh, and a few hazelnuts. True, there was quite a variety of milks and sweets: Chocolate milk, yoghurt, caramel fromage, jellies, marshmallows and chocolate (with hazelnuts!). Quite a varied diet. But probably not ideal for intestines. So I was less than shocked that I felt a bit feeble. And then I started to shiver.

I drew the curtains from the windows, where the sun had been baking. The skies were overcast. And I heard the remote rumbling of a thunderstorm. It grew stronger. Lights could be glimpsed. Suddenly, the power blinked. I had wisely saved my game. The power came back up almost at once, while a nearby thunder made the ground shake with its deep rumbling. The power went out again. Came back up - and promptly went away. I was not there when it came back. Hard rain fell from the lead-gray skies above, and I put on my shoes and went out.

Wearing my light khaki trousers and a t-shirt, I was assailed by the cold of the rain as soon as I was out the door. I hurried around the corner, and stood under the veranda while the rain continued to pour down. The air was still warm, incongruously different from the cold rain. After a while, the rain softened a bit, and I came out from my hinding place and walked along the road. The rain drenched my clothes, but I did not really mind. I went to the path down the hill, through the forest. At the beginning of the forest, I stopped as I heard the sound of rushing water. From a small pipe in the hillside a spout of water rushed out. I smiled and walked down the path, then weered into the forest itself.

Soon I came to the small stream ... only it wasn't there. It was dry. This was to be expected after all these days of heat, but now it was raining. It was the very same stream that started at the pipe in the hillside. Curious, I followed it upstream. The first part of the stream runs through a very dense patch of ferns, but some meters further down it emerges into the forest proper. On one side of a tree root there was water, on the down side the earth was almost dry. As I watched, the earth grew darker, softer, visibly wet ... then water started to gather, and finally move. But a couple meters downstream, the stream was still dry. I've heard some fantastic figures of what a tree can drink, but I was still amazed at seeing a stream being halted in its tracks while the surrounding trees drank their fill.

The rain was fading now, but there was still enough water that it would trickle far down into the forest, not to mention the rain that had fallen on the trees themselves. Humbly and piously I adressed God Almighty. "God", I said, "just in case the trees can't tell you themselves, I just wanted to say thanks for all the water." I felt quite pious and humble, as is good and proper. And then a thought spoke in my head. Since times long before man, rain has fallen on the forests. And it still does with no regard to you people. When the rains do not come, the forest dies without a word of complaint. Your thanks was not waited for, and it does not move God's hand.

I listened in amazement to the thought. This was not what I had expected! "God? Is that you? Are you saying it does not matter whether we pray and thank you?" There was no answer. I gathered my courage. "Then I will still say thanks, not because you need it, for obviously you don't. But because I need it. Perhaps it will help me fit in better in my little place in the universe." The thought shrugged - that's the best word I can find for it. Feel free to. Was there a hint of a smile, in amusement or appreciation? I can't say. Then it was gone for good.

The rain had ceased completely now. I walked up the grassy slope to the path. I walked up the path to the road. A warm wind blew over my bare arms. I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. The wind brought with it smells of nature and of civilization. The thunder had passed on, and summer returned. As I approached home, the road was starting to dry. Kids were coming out to play. And my hand did not hurt anymore. What? I flexed my fingers. It was not quite healed, but it was better than it had been in days. I shook my head and went inside to type the whole thing, while my hand lasts.