There are heavy clouds hanging low in the sky making the green of the trees and grass, what green grass their is, greener. The air is thick with humidity and each inhale of moisture rich oxygen hydrates me without ever drinking a drop. It is, in short, a miracle. This is the third year of horrible drought, after five years of much lower than average rain fall. Last summer, there was no monsoon season. There were no clouds, just endless days of clear skies and searing heat. I prayed then for rain, but it was an afterthought. I knew, I believed, that this dry spell could not hold, but it did through the summer. And then the fall. And winter arrived without snow to ski even at the highest resorts. Spring came with days upon days of beautiful unusually warm days and nights without the dark, rainy, cold days that fill up the mountains and streams. Summer arrived with searing, dry, leaf curling heat . . .and this year, I prayed in a ...