Posts Tagged ‘rain’

[Tuesday, dusk]

what I have accomplished of late:

that my eyes glaze over at poems I read online

that I perceive myself as impatient

that I baked bread without sufficient kneading

that I preheated the oven too early

that I have begun myriad posts exactly like this one and you will never know them. There was one about snow. One about our lack of snow. One about the snow ending though it never began and how much I miss les neiges d’antan.

The heavy rain. I had a dream that it was thick, wet snowflakes. I still believe that the dream was real. I could almost catch them on my tongue, right while I was lying in bed.

In an hour, I will pull the loaves from the oven, let them cool enough to run a giant knife through one. I will slab butter (unsalted only please!) on the slice and look ahead into my life.

The rain is falling in sheets, back-lit by the pine boughs, the neighbor’s fence out my window. The light is beautiful, the green needles, the red, brown, and black mottled bark. Transport me Lord.

I went outside to photograph what I thought was a white crocus. It was half an eggshell dragged from the compost by some critter. What do you think? a squirrel? a crow?


I attended the Western Massachusetts Sacred Harp Convention for a few sunlit and glorious hours on Saturday morning. It does transport me. I’m already feeling pretty silly about my whining.

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It was only a matter of time. I am not sure how many days in a row we’ve had rain. I know we’re on at least Day 992 of overcast skies. I used to think that New England was really sunny compared to Northeast Ohio, but that only lasted about 4 years. Since March of 2005, it’s just as cloudy here, I swear.

I am generally thankful for cooler temperatures because my body is happier when it’s below 85 degrees outside; but finally, yesterday, I’d had enough. One crabby pre-teen, one crabby teen, one crabby me. One of the annuals that I bought and planted only 2 weeks ago has drowned by the roots in spite of my water-dumping efforts to save it. My flowers are blooming, but how? Can’t bike. Can’t hike. Can’t walk. Can’t garden. The sodden temperament of my household needs something to kick it out of its current state, only there’s not enough energy to be summoned from anywhere to make the necessary change.

No matter. Life goes on and we’ll soon have record-breaking temps and sunshine the Valley over, sending me indoors yet again.

I love this song, with its trippy ’60s sound and quirky but classic Beatles’ harmony. John on vocals so it’s not completely “moving in the positive;” always an edge to his voice.

The video is punctuated with commentary by George Harrison, which is both odd and funny. The Fab Four are dorky, young, and beautiful, a bit more staid than when performing their usual antics in front of the camera.

P.S. I have a vague awareness of a Broadway show about the Beatles and I know it’s called “Rain,” but that is NOT in any way related to this post, ‘kay?

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I missed Thankful Thursday last week. I didn’t realize it until about this Monday. Did my week go less well? Was I steeped in negativity, naughtiness, evil thoughts and deeds? Were the temptations of Satan harder to resist? Well, no. Still, I am trying to get the rhythm right.

Grateful today for:


The blossoming trees which are everywhere right now. All over my neighborhood, all throughout downtown. The cherry and tulip trees. Magnolias, too, if my eyesight is to be trusted. Pinks and purples, and white flowers blooming like snow.

The moisture in the air. The misty rains. The wind. The window is open at the front of my mudroom and the window is open at the back of the mudroom and the curtains billow, knocking over all of my tchotchkes and papers.

The word tchotchke http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tchotchke

Shit. I’m trying. I really am. But I’m just inventing stuff now. And my life is relatively easy. I have enough of everything, a house, Hubby, great kids. I am not in the South (tornadoes) or Japan or in a war zone.

Here’s something real. I followed this woman for a few hundred feet in Provincetown last week because I loved her umbrella. I think she was Italian. Why that matters, I don’t know, but it’s interesting anyway.

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