It seemed like it would never rain again.
But somewhere on the rolling prairie, on a rocky hilltop pocked with fossil shards, ghosts of a lost culture performed one last incantation.
Lightening flashed persistent across the night sky like an incredible electrocardiograph. Thunder was a monstrous heartbeat. Strobing white light and zags like colossal, jagged, silver swords provided signs of life in the heavens.
For at least one night, the drought of 2011, was broken. On Sunday, the lifeblood of the planet poured upon the prairie. The connections between heaven and earth was reinvigorated.
Our roaming photographer captured an image of rain pounding the blacktop like invisible fists. The pink petals and subtle green stems provide the spark of life this photograph needs to work.
A general rule of composition though is to never center the subject. But closer inspection shows the milky band of splashing water is the subject. It occupies a third of the frame. The petals create a double composition, located inside the splashes, also in a third.
The petals provide a heart to the photograph. Nature provided the beat. The photographer provided the vision.