Sheets of rain suddenly poured from the sky yesterday
afternoon: a hard, fast deluge. I hurried through the house shutting windows
and wiping misted sills. Rival droplets chased each other in rivulets down the
glass, while others pelted the lake beyond until its surface roiled.
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Stepping
outside into fresh wetness, I eyed my potted aloe arborescens plants on the
deck to see how they’d fared. These
desert plants dislike wet roots. Being
under my care for the past 5 ½ years, far from their native land, they prefer our
winter months when watered sparingly inside the house beside a sunny window.
They’d been drenched. Drowned. Again.
Spiky leaves, 200 times more potent in curative powers than those
of aloe vera, looked back at me dispassionately. Rain-studded new growth pushed beyond sad-looking, brown-spotted leaves (evidence of overwatering since being moved outside in
June).
They only want to live.
They are determined to overcome.
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