Gifts from the sky.

When I think about nature, the big and small of it, the up and down of it, many images come to mind, as well as smells, sounds, and tastes. Plants, earth, insects, sunlight, the rough bark of an oak ... nature is all around me, underfoot, under my hand. But what about the sky? Clouds are constantly moving, changing, growing, disappearing. The wind sways us, cools us, freezes us, blows us over. A spring storm cracks across our lives, transforming us with blinding light and shattering sound. As my mother says, "We will have weather, whether or not." But how much do we really pay attention?

When a snowstorm gives us a day off of work or when torrential rain floods our streets, we notice. But what about the gentle rains that bring nourishment to the roots of thirsty plants, the clouds that give us a welcome break on a hot summer day? Until just a few decades ago, our agrarian-focused culture depended on beneficial weather; if a drought came, it wasn't just uncomfortable. Everyone suffered the loss of crops together--hungry, thirsty, and praying for rain.

I just returned from a visit to central Mexico, where the graniceros started the rain. Graniceros (hail-workers), also known as tiemperos (workers with the rain-time) are people with a special connection to weather. They are ritual leaders who farmers depend on to keep the much-needed rain coming and the damaging haft and winds from mining their precious crops. Graniceros wouldn't actually say that they "start the rain" after the six-month dry season that turns a large part of Mexico into arid land. But they do pray to the sky-people to bring their balanced abundance, and if they do a good job, the sky listens and sends gentle water to bless the land.

Just like in Mexico, your ancestors and mine used to connect deeply with the spirits of the sky, as well as the spirits of land, fire, earth. Those connections were precious and profound, bringing benefit to our people.

As we've seen in New Orleans and across the world in past months, the illusion of technological control wears thin when it has the power of weather to contend with. As the earth changes, it is a comfort to know that someone, somewhere has maintained those relationships, unbroken since the time before time. Comforting also is the knowledge that we can deepen our own connections to nature, by taking the time to notice the beauty and movement around us, by talking to plants and dancing with water, by giving thanks for the falling rain like the graniceros do.

Erin Everett

Editor/Publisher

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