The rain has started to fall…

Rain.

That brief sound evokes so many emotions, awakening so many seeds of life to stir. Have you ever considered how important a rain shower can be to life?

City dwellers, confined to tiny houses of just over a hundred square meters, long for rain simply to cool down the weather. But for country folk, whose lives depend on farming year-round, rain is a savior for countless species. During the dry season, the intense water shortage is so severe that even grass withers and dies; what else can survive? The fields are scorched and cracked, and at midday, the steam rising from the fields looks like cracks in the air. The tamarind trees that were lush green and laden with fruit last month are now bare, their branches stark and dark against the blue sky. Most pitiful are the cows, without grass, forced to gnaw on dry straw by the pond. Sometimes, tired of the dry straw, they let out long, mournful sighs, as if lamenting their owner, a sound so sorrowful.

The dry season dragged on. The heat continued to scorch the earth. People and animals languished, waiting for rain. The ponds in the village, once full of water, were now completely dry. Soon after, they dried up, cracked open, and lay dead, their white carcasses exposed. Only a small puddle of water, the size of a basin, remained. The surviving fish struggled to survive, hoping the rain would arrive in time to save them from death. But the rain was still far away, not yet here; only flocks of egrets flew in, scrambling to feed on the fish, their cries echoing loudly.

The villagers could only sigh as they gazed at the blue sky each day. The nameless stream trickled down, and despite their efforts to collect water day and night, it was never enough for their daily needs. Occasionally, somewhere in the small village, the sound of a couple arguing could be heard because they lacked water to wash clothes or straw to feed their cows.

The sky remained clear and bright. The air grew hotter and hotter. It was stifling. People longed for the day to pass quickly, for the night to come so they could enjoy a cool breeze. But even in bed, they couldn't sleep because it was too stuffy. Fans and air conditioners were running at full power. Someone joked that a power outage at this time would be disastrous. It's true. Luckily, since the price of dragon fruit dropped, people stopped using lights, so we haven't seen any power outages during the dry season.

Newspapers and television reports indicate that this year, due to the influence of El Nino, the weather will be record-breakingly hot. People in the countryside can only sigh and look at each other, knowing there's nothing more they can do but bury their heavy hearts in worry. The vegetables outside are thriving, but the ponds are already dry. If the rain doesn't come in time, all they can do is harvest and sell them prematurely, whatever money they can get is for the worst.

Just when everything and everyone was weary from waiting for the rain, it finally came. The joy of both people and animals was indescribable. The air calmed down considerably. People rushed out to catch crabs and frogs. The barking of dogs from the fields echoed throughout the night. Although the first rain of the season wasn't enough to quench the thirst of the parched land, it was enough to sprout tiny blades of grass. In just one night, countless tiny green sprouts pushed through the soil. People breathed a sigh of relief. All that was needed was one more rain shower, and then there would be grass for the cows to eat. For the villagers, that was enough to make them very happy.

After the rain, the trees seem to come back to life. The tamarind tree, which was bare just yesterday, now has its bark beginning to sprout tiny, vibrant purple buds. The flame tree is the same; its young shoots peek out, gazing at the sky, then a few days later shyly reveal tender green buds, preparing to herald the glorious arrival of summer. The remaining fish in the pond rejoice at their narrow escape from death; although the pond isn't full, it's enough to avoid the long beaks of the egrets and herons. As for the people, well, it's impossible to fully describe the joy of the rain. If you don't believe me, just look at the rural market after the rain—full of country delicacies: frogs, young tamarind leaves, perch, snakehead, gobies… wriggling in buckets. There are even bundles of fresh, tender water spinach. Fried with garlic, that would make you finish off a whole pot of rice.

All those little joys were brought about by the rain. Rain was the savior that revived this rural land. Therefore, every time someone shouted "Rain! Rain!", the whole village would excitedly prepare buckets, fishing rods, and flashlight chargers. And that evening, the whole village would celebrate with great fanfare, the croaking of frogs, the barking of dogs, and the calls of people... All of it created a vibrant, melodious symphony in a corner of the countryside.

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