Austin didn’t get rain this time around. It moved to the east of the city from south to north. But in the early morning the storm clouds and the sunlight conspired to light up the sycamore behind us until it glowed white against the clouds.

I grew up in the north, where rain meant greenery and mud. Here, rain means blue and bone. I don’t know what those colors signify, but no one told me, before I moved to Texas, that rains meant the sycamores glow with an unearthly light.



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