For some reason a few weeks ago on an early morning run with my dog I was irritated at something. It is hard to remember what it was now, and hard for me to understand how, at that hour of the day before anything has actually happened or even before the first rays of sun that I could have found something that was annoying. Remnants of a dream maybe, or something unresolved– whatever it was I was pushing through our run as though I had to get to something terribly important shortly after which I did not, And to add further irritation Lily was stopping more frequently than usual to sniff at something.
It was on one of these stops that I heard it. First I thought it might be some night creature foraging in its last few moments before dawn, or a deer wandering through the woods but then I realized: it was dew fall.
Dew drops accumulating so much on the remnants of leaves on the trees that they become heavy to the point that the leaves release each droplet and they patter to the dry, crusty leaves beneath. So I stopped and listened. Time stopped with me. My frustration disappeared. Something I could not control yet so natural as to happen whether or not I wanted it to or even noticed. Something that happened outside my realm of wants, needs, thoughts, hopes, dreams or irritations. And it happened whether or not I was there to share in its perpetual, gentle sound.
The ground, dry and cracked, was even being nourished by something so slight as collected water droplets of dew. Like a blessing, just by hearing I became nourished, too.