Mother Earth, Father Sky by Kathryn Magendie

Dark clouds hovered over the distant Smoky Mountains. I stood on the porch, unable to take my eyes from the site of mountain, thundercloud, mist. As night descended, so did the storm—a furious slamming of wind and water against the roof and windows. Bedtime brought a dreamy smile before sleep. Several times during the night, I awoke to hear pummeling rain and snuggled deeper into my comfort.

Morning arrives, the storm has passed and Sun is rising to hide Moon—only Grandmother Moon and Grandfather Sun can match Mountain in bold dignity. As I head to the coffee pot for a cup of Deep Creek Blend, something calls, a familiar sound I can’t quite place. I sip coffee and go to the window facing our porch, which looks to the ridge across the cove, and over to those distant mountains. I cock my head to listen.

When I open the front door, there it is. There is the sound I have missed over these months, the one that had been muffled. The wild wild rush of the creek as it falls over and upon itself, as it tumbles down to the bottom of the mountain to spill into the larger creek, which spills into the river, which spills into the ocean. With winter’s bony branches revealing, I can see the boiling white water, the clear pools. Creek sounds roar mighty. Creek is gorged with rainwater!

North Carolina, like some of our sister states, has been in a drought. I watched the news as Atlanta officials prayed for water. I think how Mother Earth will provide; Father Sky will provide, as they see fit, as they are able. I know sometimes our own actions cause change, and I know as well that Earth will change on her own. I did not pray for rain, I waited for it. The waiting did not disappoint. Father Sky gave the rain and Mother Earth fed her creek. Thank you Mother Earth and Father Sky. In this year of gratitude, I will watch; I will wait for your gifts. In return, I will protect; I will appreciate.