#ft murray

“It’s raining pretty good.” I’m standing on the front porch with a relative, almost any relative including my dad; the rain, a soft female rain, or a fierce male rain, falls before us, drumming on the porch roof. We are quiet, listening to the sounds of rain, and of the fields and garden reaching for each drop; we can literally hear the plants growing. There is a fresh breeze, warm in spring or…