The Dry Spell Has Been Broken

Well, after 19 days of no rain, a quiet thunderstorm rolled through our village around 4:15 a.m. this morning (yes, I was still awake). And I am sure you are thinking that quiet + thunderstorm is some kind of oxymoron, but it was so soft and gentle, it was as if Zeus himself was trying to blanket the town with a light sheath of rain, enough to keep plant life fertile, but not loud enough to disrupt the hundreds of sleeping denizens of the village. The lightning was close, the thunder should have been loud, but it wasn't. I tell you, the longer I live here, the more I think the ancient 12 do indeed keep watch over Mt. Olympus and its inhabitants.