With the deluge outside, clothes get soaked to the skin. There is no damp, the storm is merciless with its fierce green sky and angry whip of wind.
The thirsty seedlings get their first taste of a thunderous affair, with the garden getting the full fury of the first summer storm.
The new additions to the plant family inside the house are dried out like the desert soil, accepting only small amounts of water at a time. You can smell their green envy of the wet life outside. The sponge of soil has dried so crumbly (like streusel) that the water will pass right through if applied too quickly. All night long as the slowly as the drips roll off the trees, so must the soil be hydrated.
I, myself, slowly accept gulps of water all day, mimicking the dry soil of the potted plants. Slowly sipping water all day, I eventually absorb and restore.
2 thoughts on “Watery”
Oh those poor little plants that are green with envy… The most poetical description of ‘watery’ I’ve ever seen.
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