“Winter is the season when life-sustaining manna, in the form of water, usually falls from heaven around here. Though we sit squarely one week before the start of summer, the bone-dry complexions of my companions evidence the lack of rain over the past few years. Last winter was particularly parched, delivering little moisture to help tide the local flora and fauna over the rainless season ahead. Late spring did surprise us with a drenching rain a couple of weeks ago, soaking us with a single inch of blessed precipitation.
Scanning my chaparral companions, I notice that a few bear a sprinkling of tender leaflets. Perhaps that one inch was just enough to awaken some of the scrubs from the lull that dearth induces. Perhaps a kernel of Hope implanted in their DNA keeps them alive but hibernating during arid times. Perhaps that impulse for life is what nudges the scrub awake when the first rain falls.”