The weather service announced a “threat” of rain today. It seems that a low pressure system is funneling in moisture from ex-hurricane Blanca. For Californians, the weather service needs to change its terminology, because in this drought-ridden state, rain is not a threat but a hope. Here in Sand Canyon, we have a forty percent hope of rain this afternoon. But it’s not just the people who are hoping for rain, it’s all of us, animal, vegetable, and mineral included. This morning my rock rose opened its flowers, wide, like little pink saucers and pointed them straight up, hoping to catch even a drop of rain. The ants, in search of a water source, that are drowning themselves in my bird bath are hoping for rain. The distressed cottonwood in my front yard, its many leafless branches reaching skyward, is hoping for rain. Even the cactus seems to be holding back its blooms and waiting for some rain. I have a story. It’s true, though I probably don’t have all the details right. A friend of a friend was doing research in a village in Asia somewhere. It had been dry there for quite some time, and the villagers hired a rainmaker. He disappeared into a hut for a few days, and then sure enough it rained. The researcher asked the rainmaker how he did it. He answered something like this. “I did not make it rain. When I arrived, the villagers were upset, and in turmoil. I knew that when they calmed down and got back into balance, the rain would come.” Perhaps if we could all calm down and bring some peace to this big village we call our world, it will rain again here in Sand Canyon. Meanwhile I sit quietly, not with a threat of rain, but with hope. And not just a forty percent hope. Today I hold out a one hundred percent hope for rain.