Cloudburst

Yesterday evening, from the back door, I watched a cloudburst of summer rain fall. The door was wide open to let the steam out of the kitchen. Big Dreamer had a vat of bubbling jam on the hob. It was a mongrel jam made from fruit gatherings at the allotment, none of which amounted to enough on their own to make a pedigree version. Plums quickly dissolved into syrup while blackberries rolled around on the surface. It smelt delicious. The rain started with slow giant drops that were quickly soaked up by the hot earth, and then, like a choir gathering force, more and more drops joined in until every other noise was drowned out by the chorus of cascading water. It was as if all the world had stopped to listen to the sudden deluge. I sat on a stool, watching the rain, and stitching name tags onto new school uniforms.