For an entire year the ditch had been dry and lifeless, as obvious a sign of drought as anyone would ever see, but we knew things would be different now, and our excitement mounted. As it turned out, we missed the first appearance of the tumbling torrent, but only by a few minutes. You hear it, you see it, you smell it, and the thrill is palpable, even for someone like me who neither farms nor actually needs more than what comes out of the faucet. Everything changes as a result. Suddenly the trees are full of birds.
Hawks appear over irrigated fields, hunting displaced voles and gophers.
Gurgling streams appear and disappear through unknown gates. Each new sighting of the water is a happy miracle, even when here and there a minor flood occurs from careless managing of the seasonal gift. The weather will be different this year, too. The moisture already in the soil will tend to stay there, shaded as the ground is by a thick blanket of flowers and grasses. Most of it will eventually return to the sky through evaporation, but gradually, in a natural rationing mechanism to ensure a whole summer of afternoon thunderstorms.