Sunday night I lay in bed listening to the drumming of the pounding rain on the roof of my house. After a long spell of very dry weather, finally a good rainstorm. I imagined the heavy rains churning up the earth, creating washouts and gullies and exposing tools buried for thousands of years. I had been waiting for a rain like this. I was so thrilled by the storm that I found it hard to fall asleep despite the soothing sound of the rain and the cool breeze coming through the window.
Monday I drove to work and watched the raindrops splashing in the puddles with great interest. My anticipation grew all day and after it stopped raining it became almost unbearable. After work I raced to a place where I could walk. The conditions were great, lots of rocks clearly visible, freshly exposed, washed clean by the rain and standing in sharp contrast to the soaked earth. Perfect. I carefully examined every broken rock, every color and shape. I was pleased to see this lying totally exposed: