A re-run. I’m in the throes (throws?) of concert prep and writing.
An unexpected shower bustled through Wednesday morning, leaving fresh-washed air and a beautiful sunrise, sweet with the perfume of local grasses. It reminded me of one of my favorite Randall Thompson compositions, which quotes King David (Samuel 23:1) talking about a just ruler and the blessings that brings to the people and the land.
The shower washed the smoke and dust out of the morning air, leaving it warm and soft. Soil and grass scent filled the morning, far gentler than the usual hard-edged autumn scents. Layers of cloud caught the sun, whites, pinks, and gold, with low grey clots and clumps drifting along below. A few cream-gold puffs trailed pink rain below them as they drifted east and north.
The sun touched the western horizon with it’s light as I reached the edge of town. Shadow filled the low places and playas, but gold-pink washed the grasses. To the south, the rumpled purple-blue horizon marked the northern edge of the rain shield slowly easing north. I rolled down the window, and heard the chattering of red-wing blackbirds. They feasted on old sorghum and wild sunflowers at the edges of the fields left for hunters and habitat.
The light gilded everything—grass, fences, birds, buildings. The faintest of breezes teased my cheeks as I walked from the parking area to the school; a spring breeze, warm and playful, on an autumn morning.
“And he shall be as the light in the morning, as the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain.”
Cat Rotator's Quarterly 
Urrr … synchronicity. I was singing it at low power late yesterday, waiting for rains to finish up. Changing the tractor from snow to grass mode. Rain — grass — bass sforzendo (but muted).
Nice