It’s morning, but there’s little light, the rain and clouds hiding the bright early sun, so even though the clock says 7:30, it feels like we should crawl back under the sheets, where at least we’ll be cozy and warm and protected from the dark, dreary day that awaits us.
After weeks of three-digit temperatures—not just here but in Chicago and Wisconsin and maybe where you are, too—Nashville has finally received what all the farmers have been praying for: days and days of gray skies and wet grass and the blessing of rain that turns acres of dry, brown land back into green.
The last couple days, I’ve worn long sleeves again (who would’ve thought!) and worked on my computer from beneath a big, wool blanket.
I’ve stared out at the wet world, watching the raindrops stick to the windows, hearing cars splash puddles as they drive by, feeling the drips on my cheeks and my arms when I escape to the mailbox in the middle of the day.
And I’ve given thanks for God’s life-giving sky, for how much better it waters the earth than our hoses and irrigation systems and sprinklers.
I’ve felt, again, how seemingly powerless I am, even compared to something as simple as the weather, which can change farmers’ livelihoods and affect prices at my grocery store and alter what’s in my weekly CSA in a way I could never do. I’ve looked at my neighbor’s flowers—the ones she’s been trying to save with her faithful watering and weeding and steady hours outside; the ones that have become such a desert, wilted and parched and sad—and seen how days of downpour can change them, can bring them back to life.
And then, from the comfort of my little house where I’m watching this happen, I’ve cradled cups of drinking chocolate, sipped while we work in the dim light of our dining room, sweet and rich and strong.
The idea for this drink is simple: combine kefir (or yogurt) with a heap of raw cacao, a banana and a little honey; then, blend until smooth.
What results is a thick and creamy drinking chocolate that sticks to the sides of your mug the same way that it clings to your teeth and your tongue, dark and frothy, luxurious and decadent.
It’s a real pick-me-up—just like for us these days, are afternoons of rain.
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