Today, our upstairs neighbors, who usually prefer to make themselves known in the afternoon as they tiptoe about their tiny balcony garden to the rhythmic beats of a rooster who’s decided dawn should come at 2pm, seemed to abandon their baby sprouts and instead threw their sprinklers to the skies. From what I could tell, they had rather given up on seeding new vegetables and little plants (they are ostensibly out of space, after all), and settled their sights much, much higher.
Well, sometimes big ambitions pay off.
The neighbors’ gentle prodding of those fluffy things above started at their usual gardening ritual time, in early afternoon. By early evening, the harvests pounding down from the skies had fairly exceeded the neighbors’ usual annual yield by at least a million.
So the skies are falling tonight, in great fits of thunder and lightning and all the like, resulting in glorious puddles that might lead to secret underwater worlds, if you dare dive beneath. It is with the greatest thanks we must give to those neighbors, for letting the skies fall tonight, bringing us great gifts and adventure like we haven’t known after so many spectacular days of sun.