Plant Life - 01 - Hardscrabble

The air seeped from him like a tiny puncture to the inner tube of a tire. Within seconds the fruit fell from the trees like heavy rain and the land suddenly became barren. Years of tender pruning erased from view. It wiped life from the landscape like a chalkboard, leaving only a faint trace of what was. He looked around the desolate gardens unsure of what exactly had transpired. Shock still strangled him as he searched for a way to maintain his balance. He lowered himself to one knee and took in a full breath. The wind carried with it not a trace of evidence. Nor had it revealed anything of where it had been or where it was destined to be, when it whispered around his ears.

As he turned his head westward he caught the Sun sinking into it's slumber but before it finally fell from the horizon it gave one last blast of light, which instantly turned the trees to ash. After a few moments of having taken in this event he knew the field would have to be re-tilled and re-fertilized if a future were ever to flourish here. Both of these tasks seemed overwhelming as he stood in the shadow of that which had just transpired. This inevitability would have to wait for the correct conditions and more importantly for time to ripen him.

The Rains were coming. He could already sense that the clouds had begun to weep. Without fail a single drop fell on his cheek and plummeted towards his chin. The drop lingered there and teased it's release for an agonizing fraction of a second. The speed with which it now descended was akin to syrup from a maple tree waking on a dark winter morning. He knew his ability to contain the rain was non-existent. Waves of sporadic and often violent rainfall would be birthed from these conditions, that much was certain.

These were the first of the rains to pass through this area in close to 4 years. Even though time had passed he knew how it always started. First the light rains would reveal themselves like the brightest of stars which can be seen as early as dusk. This type of rain always gave warning of its approach, by allowing a fine mist the ability to embrace everything it came into contact with. Over the course of a few days the rain would slowly shift to fewer outbursts but with a more violent overtone.
One thing he knew for certain or as certain as one could be in these unsettling times, was that once the unrelenting rains pummeled him and his garden an end was sure to be in sight.