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[T]he beauty of rain is a thing often missed, I think, even by those who do keep, as they pass through this world, a keen eye for the Creator’s thoughts, embodied in beauty about them…. ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

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It is beautiful when it rains far away in the distance, the bright sun shining on the mound on which you stand, and only a few guerilla drops heralding the approach of the shower towards you. ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

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The crisp drenching rustle from the dry foliage of the perceptibly grateful trees… the little plants, in speechless ecstasy, receiving cupful after cupful into the outspread leaves, that silently empty their gracious load, time after time, into the still expecting roots, and open their hands still for more.
~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

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[Rain] is beautiful when it comes hurried and passionate, fleeing from the storm wind, hurled, like a volley of small musketry, against your streaming panes…. It is beautiful in the Midsummer, when it comes in light, soft showers, or, more in earnest, accompanied with thunder-music, straight and heavy;
when, as the poet says-

                         “Rolling as in sleep,
Low thunders bring the mellow rain.”

~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863; Tennyson, “The Talking Oak.”

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But the true lover of rain…. has a deep inner enjoyment of the rain, as rain, and his sense of its beauty drinks it in as thirstily as does the drinking earth. It refreshes and cools his heart and brain; he longs to go forth into the fields, to feel its steady stream, to scent its fragrance; to stand under some heavy-foliaged chestnut-tree, and hear the rushing music on the crowded leaves.
~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

Happy Wednesday!

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