The dry spell has broken...
A cool pleasant rain has been falling off and on for the past twenty four hours.
The frogs are very excited, the grass, lush and burning green.
Sunny breaks between showers allow the parched ground to absorb moisture.
Every now and then a lazy rumble of thunder comes rolling over the hill as an incredible stillness shrugs, sighs and returns; taking hold of everything.
Everything but the birds that is...
The frog's trill rises to a crescendo as the Redwing calls out shrill from the willows.
Big fat drops fall from eves and plum branches.
Splat, splat... Splat.