3:30 PM. Every storm passes. Take care of what keeps growing. Last season, I found my rhythm in those sudden summer rains, yet we kept drifting toward places washed in golden light just to be seen. This time, it began with that soft, blinding glow of late afternoon in my small town. Somehow, we let the rain take us in, and everything felt complete. Someone once told me that storms feel overwhelming when you’re inside them, but when they pass, everything returns to something ordinary. There are days I lose myself to the wind, And days I gently water my garden in the rain. Perhaps it’s not so cruel to wish every sky meets a passing storm, one that clears, and lets the light rest a little longer. Please take care of your small plants, for it is never the weather, but the care you give that lets them grow, just as it is with your soul.