Raining dreams and cherry blossoms

When I spend the night at my aunt and uncle’s home in the San Fernando Valley, I hear what sounds like rain gently falling. More than once in the middle of the night, I’ve fallen for this California dreamin’ of rain and looked out the window. Then I smile at the remembrance of their fountain that sprinkles into a small, tropically landscaped pool.

After last weekend’s glorious Seattle spring sunshine, days that stirred the primal urge to stick one’s hands in the soil, to plant and grow sustenance, I was aching to get out in my garden today. But last night I woke from a dream in which I was visiting someone in California, and heard the sound of gentle rain. In my half sleep, I briefly imagined I was visiting my aunt and uncle, lulled by the sound of simulated rain. A double illusion. And double disappointment.

Here in Seattle, I do not find the sound of rain on the roof to be comforting. Instead, I lie awake imagining water seeping into my basement and feel anxious.

Not only will I not be planting my pea starts and mixed salad seeds today, but my Kwanzan cherry trees, which were at their breathtaking peak the past two days, will suffer a hastened demise of their beauty. Below is the view from my upstairs window.

Kwanzan flowering cherry before the rain

 Already this morning, their branches, thickly covered with bunchy-double, very pink flowers, bend low with the weight of their wet blossoms. Soon that wet weight will drag the blooms off their stems to carpet the ground.

Drooping after the rain

Recognizing that memory is notoriously unfaithful, still, I do believe the Kwanzans achieved a new height of astonishing beauty this year.