I still got wet even with my muck boots on. Walking through the dew soaked grasses was like wading in dry water. My naked knees and the hem of my dress were soon soaked.
Once I gave into the idea that I was going to get wet, I began to enjoy it.
The woods behind our house are so different now.
The rain has been constant so I haven’t been over the Gulley Bridge in a while. The path we cut in the winter is now obscured with green. Tall green. Green creeping low along the ground. And green blocking the path from above too, the leaf heavy branches like curtains pushed aside to pass through.
I cried a little at its beauty. Adding my tears to the dew, becoming water soaked like all the other beings around me.
The small streams gushed with the rain water and the mosquitoes, the first I’ve encountered since we cut the path, found their way up my skirt to my bare thighs.
Lush, primal, dripping wet, like the beginning of life.
