Today was one of those days that is so welcome for those who live here and so disliked by those who come for a visit, longing for the sun.
I stayed open through a small rain at the cart, selling hot sauce and various odds and ends (thanks, brave visitors!), but had a feeling that the ozone I was smelling, sharp in the air, pre-saged a little more than a quick drizzle. I closed the cart, bought my weekly rotisserie chicken from Dinghy Dock and headed home. A ride speeded things up considerably and gratefully, because the rain was starting already. Thanks, Carlos!
For the next few hours the rain poured down. (c)Whim curled up tight and wide-eyed; then she just shut her eyes, pretending it wasn't happening, the tin roof sounding like pellets were hitting it full blast. I swore I could hear the plants and earth expanding, drinking deep after such a long thirst.
At last it seemed it was over and after so much noise, the calm was almost as much a shock to the senses. The clouds parted a bit and there was some sun, but not much. I could see rocks filled with mangrove oysters at the end of the yard; the tide being as low or lower than I'd ever seen it. The mangroves, bared to the bottom, looked like they were sticking alien toes down to grip the bottom. I thought about how strong and healthy they looked and how quickly they could be destroyed. I hope these wil be around and thriving a long time...
Suddenly the wind picked up out of a dead calm and that cold, cold rain started again, blasting in like it had only taken a rest somewhere hidden before coming back to finish the job. As I was quick stepping back inside, (c)Whim having run before me, I risked a shot down the side yard, while noting that the floor of the dinghy was completely full of rain.
That rain session went on another hour or so and when it ended it was absolutely time to bail the dinghy. The tide was so low and the dinghy so full I was afraid I'd scrape the bottom once I stepped in but didn't. Figuring the size of my jug I use for bailing, I am guessing I tossed out about 30 gallons from the main section...I quit counting when I bailed the forward section, for some reason it makes it go slower.
And then I looked up. This morning there was a huge, but very vague rainbow, like I'd never seen before. A correspondant from St. Thomas on stormcarib.com saw and wrote about it as well, weirdly using the same word 'vague' in her description. This one, a double, stretched from somewhere around Brava to Sail Rock and no photo, even if I'd had a panaramic, could do it justice. It was as sharp and clear as this morning's was vague. Powerful, the weather today, and I, who tend to infuse these things with portents and omens and signs, take it for all good, a washing of our spirits as well as our land. A good thing.