As an tremendous wall of grey clouds attacks. the expectancy grows of all time so somewhat with each go throughing minute. This warm sun-filled afternoon easy begins its descent into a cool breezy eventide as the rain commences. A few bantam droplets fall from the dark canopy above onto the rug of green blades beneath my pess. Across the wavy grazing land the verdant pine trees at the woods’ border come alive as they sway back and Forth like chaffs of wheat from some alone field in rural Nebraska. A thin bed of fog easy begins to organize merely above the warm land as the steady cloudburst continues.
My brother and I were every bit close as any two siblings could be. Although he is a full three old ages older than me. we seemed to make more together than he and the cats his ain age did. We could angle for hours and hours. although we didn’t normally catch much except for tonss of weeds and algae. We knew that snagging a few bass wasn’t chiefly the intent of our trips to the pool. The excursions were our safety ; we could wholly bury about how much we hated school or all the jobs we had with misss and merely laugh over his dirty gags and my awkward narratives while the fish paid no existent attending to our come-on.
We both besides shared an quenchless thirst for rainstorms. Most people think of rain as a nuisance that upsets the normal rotary motion of cheery cloudless yearss and causes usual out-of-door activities to be put on standby. but non to Brian and I. Equally shortly as we noticed the air current picking up or a sudden bead in the temperature. we would head for the grazing land. Nature seems to take on a wholly different sort of beauty when it rains. a beauty genuinely appreciated by both of us. One twenty-four hours as the rain was falling. Brian and I decided to sit underneath our elephantine old oak tree. as we sometimes did. to eat a few apples and speak about our twenty-four hours. As I went to recover some more fruit. a deafening roar that sounded as if a bomb had hit straight behind halted me. As I turned. I saw the old oak split in half and Brian lying on the moisture land.
I come here every August 4th ( Brian’s birthday ) to put a flower following to the white cross that stands where the old tree used to. For six old ages I haven’t allow a bead of precipitation touch my tegument. When I foremost arrived here today at that place wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Now I stand immersed in all kinds of emotions as I place a vivacious orange tiger lily following to the cross. As I begin to walk off. the steady cloudburst ends merely every bit all of a sudden as it had began. I’m non bothered.