At 5:15 it was still raining. The dripping from our faulty gutters sounded like horses. Not fully awake, it took me a minute to register what it was. Horses in the road seemed more plausible than rain in this drought year. I lay back down, but didn’t sleep; listening as the rain receded and the wind picked up. Gusts blew through the open windows stirring everything in the room. As always I whispered encouragement to our ancient cottonwood. “Be strong!” At 6 it was still fairly dark with cloud cover, no crimson horizon, no frilly pinks, just a suggestion of the season coming. But it is still summer…this was only a display of Montana’s changeable weather.
