After a beautiful but hot and humid day, the rain that, all day, had threatened to come, came. The temperature hovered close to ninety throughout day as Jeff and I mowed. About five o'clock I left to go pick up my mother-in-law from the hospital. While I was in Marietta getting Martha loaded into the car, Jeff was running for shelter from the driving rain that forced him finally to stop mowing. Then, around 7:00 pm the sun decided to return. The evening warmed up, with much of the moisture on the ground evaporating into a soupy, steamy, oxygen-depriving fog.
It took my breath as the liquid "air" forced its way into my lungs with each breath I took. The natural, free sauna fogged up my glasses as I tried to take some photos. According to the clock, it was still supposed to be daylight and the sun knew it. Though the fog tried in vain to bring about an early darkness, the sun won out by eventually piping the light in through the trees.
As the light's intensity grew, much of the fog dissipated and birds who had had perched quietly in the trees now felt free to sing with abandon.
Maybe it was because they had so little time left until dark or maybe it was from a joy brought in by clean bright sunshine, but the birds sang like they were auditioning for a part on Glee. Cardinals, towhees, and mockingbirds sang from the woods while phoebes and wrens vied for spots on the barn rafters. An indigo bunting picked a high spot at the top of a magnolia tree where he repeated his song over and over in case anyone missed it the first time.
In the sky the clouds were celebrating. They puffed and glowed replacing the blue with their marshmallow white forms.
The weight of the rain and fog brought down the grass in our hay field. Some of it will pop back up as it dries, but most is down until it is cut and baled.
The sun finally sets and turns the day over to the fog and the night.