Today I biked by some gorgeous landscape.  Lush green grass surrounding healthy maple trees.  Trees so tall that your eyes get lost trying to find the top.  Their sturdy branches knock together in the August wind, enjoying these last weeks before they change color.  Who would have known that this place was in a drought?  Just weeks ago the grass, if there was any, prickled your bare feet as it glared up at the sun.  The sun was ruthless and the clouds even worse.  I suppose they were on vacation.  No.  I remember the clouds this summer.  They were heavenly.  But at times it seemed like they taunted the thirsty ground.  Drifting slow enough to give a little rain, they would pass by without a drop. But in the past couple of days, the thunders came and the rain fell. It woke me several times in the night.  Lightening so violent and terrible lit my room.  Thunder loud and startling, fierce and angry drove me under my covers.  But when it came at last,  the forever desired rain storm, who could not help but stand in its showers?  They were welcome and wanted.  They brought life back to our dry and thirsty city.  Everyday I hear another lawn mower.  It sounds as if it's been longing to be out. Plowing down the fresh green grass it sends off that midday summer scent.  That smell of cut grass at a baroque where the hamburgers sizzle and children play volleyball.  Though the summer has ended, the green grass makes me feel like it's just begun.