AFTER RAIN

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 October 1938, Page 6

AFTER RAIN

Midsummer—and early morning after a night of rain. The pine needles on the path are thick and soggy under foot.. The air is heavy with damp “woodsy” smells. An almost imperceptible breeze stirs the quivering aspen leaves, but otherwise everything is still.

Wet fingers of ferns brush my ankles as I pass. There are water-filled brown leaf cuds in the path and, here and there, the golden dome of a toadstool pushes up through the needles. The grav-green lichens on rocks and mottled tree-trunks are softened by the rain and have become like pliable leather to the touch. In places the brilliant green moss is a sumptuous shaded carpet, and the hoary pine stump at the turn of the path is wrapped in a velvet garment fit for a king. Near it a clump of Indian Pipe thrusts up its nail id stalks.

Each cobweb strand resembles a rope of tiny pearls. A blue mist hangs in the trees through which the sunlight filters, dappling the path. Silver birches gleam and diamonds glisten on pine arid hemlock branches. There is a steady dripping everywhere. Birds are twittering drowsily as if incredulous that the storm is over. Pewee calls plaintively and the oven bird insists: “Teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher, teach!” A shy hermit thrush sings in the distance —its bell-like arpeggios exquisite in their clarity. Suddenly a breeze brings down a shower of drops. For a moment it is almost as if it were raining again.