It’s late May. We’d been in drought conditions for some time when, last week, we finally had several days of soaking rain. I could hear my fig trees sigh with relief. During the day. At night, all I could hear is this (press play below). Some nights a clown and his horn will join in the chorus, but not tonight. Tonight, there was no irony, no comedy. Just a sublime symphony. I wish you were here; it never sounds half as good in a recording as it does in person.
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