Rain was thick in the air as the clouds rolled in, a dark grey blanket that swaddled the sun. May Ellen hadn’t seen rain in so long that she’d nearly forgotten what it was. The summer had been long and the winter had been even worse, barely accumulating any precipitation. Now, well into spring, she had begun to doubt that anything could ever grow again.
Her dark curls whipped wildly around her face as the wind picked up speed. Leaning against the dark yellow house, she crossed her arms, waiting patiently for the fields to be dampened. It started slowly- individual drops kicking up small puffs of dust like a petulant child. Lighting flashed across the sky and a rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. Without warning, the heavens opened and poured rain as fast and as hard as May Ellen had ever seen it- almost as though the skies were apologizing for being stingy before. Small rivers formed in the ground as water scurried down the hill, and the smell of decaying roots replaced by the fresh scent of a new season.