In the Rain

I woke up yesterday morning to the smell of rain. It was absolutely beautiful, the most glorious scent. Then I remembered all my socks and underwear had been washed and hung out on the line, of course. I wound up spending most of the day in bed with a head cold and some very unhappy sinuses. Too sick to do anything, but not so sick that it was a completely horrible day. Grateful I wasn’t working, I slept for most of the day, and spent the afternoon talking with Rose about life and the future, hopes and fears for it and us. In the evening I got up and washed all my dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen floor, hung another load of washing indoors, made waffles for dinner, lay on the couch to watch tv, and took Zoe for a walk down the beach in the rain, well rugged up.

It was beautiful and solitary down the beach in the storm. I wore many layers of clothing so I didn’t get cold, and found a place to sit and write as the waves crashed and boomed into shore. I’m slowly fumbling my way back to my writing and art after many months of not being able to do much of either. I’ve just spent the early hours of this morning working on a new acrylic and ink painting. I think I’m figuring it out. Actually, my brain has been very busy lately, I think I’m figuring a lot of things out, and when I have a quiet day I’ll sit down and put my thoughts in order and share some of them with you. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rain if you’re having any, or failing that, the beautiful autumn nights. May there be art, or poetry, or mindfulness, or whatever it is you do that makes you feel whole.

I appreciate hearing from you

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s