This morning I woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. After a long, dry, extremely hot summer, it was a welcome sound. I got up to find the world celebrating the passing of another season and the start of a new one.
Grey skies could not stop the party. The little lime tree that grows in front of our house donned it's green robe to celebrate.
Little puddles created by the rain in the hollows of stepping stones in the garden came alive with the color from chips of colored pebbles that were deposited there by many a footstep coming to and fro.
And a patch of clover that grows wild in the backyard came to the party wearing all its jewelry.
My mother's large ferns were sleek and shiny with the wet, wet rain. All of them, like all of us in the house, heaved a sigh of relief.
Through all this there was one who mourned the passing of summer. The little red scooter, stood in a far, forgotten corner of the yard. Abandoned hastily as the first few drops fell, she stands waiting for sunshine again and for my niece who was her best friend all summer long.