July 2012 was the warmest month in U.S. history. Drought haunts the American bread basket states of Nebraska, Iowa and Kansas, their fertile farmlands parched and barren. And while I in no way equate my relatively insignificant private struggles to these global events, the mental image of dry cracked earth resonates in my soul. 2012 has been a year juxtaposed between crisis and grace. After four surgeries, a month in the hospital and eight weeks without solid food I’ve felt depleted and dry, caught in the tension between gratitude, impatience and a temptation to despair. At the risk of being melodramatic, it’s been difficult for me to wait for full recovery and to fight the urge to lose perspective. I’m a writer in my core. But at my keyboard, my fingers freeze. I just haven’t been able to compose the arid silence of my heart.
But my sky has darkened. The air grows heavy and a primal smell of earth foreshadows the rain that will dampen my soul. I can feel the drops beginning to fall. The worst is over. I can feel life awakening. The relief and the gratitude are overwhelming.
Photo by Tobias Helbig: http://planetgreen.discovery.com/tv/go-for-the-green/green-brain-climate-warming.html
Pam Barksdale 
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