Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—
Lean on a garden urn—
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair—
~ T. S. Eliot
For the past several mornings I’ve looked out the patio doors at the backyard and watched as it rained pine needles and leaves. It has been so dry here that the trees are turning brown, drooping, and dropping their leaves.
Yesterday a doe came around to the pond to drink, and I wondered if that was a good thing (or not) since the water is brackish. I’m not sure where the deer and other critters get their drinking water. It’s unusual to see them drinking from the pond, but maybe they do so during the hours when I’m not looking. Maybe the doe was there during the day because the days are so hot that she couldn’t wait until dusk or dark.
The local weather oracles have kept a 10 to 20 percent chance of rain in our forecast, but with the usual shrug and a sardonic look that means “not likely.” This time of year I tend to think of their forecasts as wishful and wistful. The future predictions often include cooler temperatures as if the inclusion will somehow make it happen, but when that future rolls around and becomes the present, there is little change. Hot is hot especially when it’s 90 degrees (F) or above.
Around three o’clock this morning, “not likely” happened. Fast, furious, and intense lightning started the show. It took a while for the thunder, wind, and rain to follow. I’m not sure what woke me up. When I saw all the flashing going on behind the bedroom blinds, I tiptoed out to the living room to see what was going on. The lightning was so vivid and bright that I couldn’t look at it for long. (It should be noted that I am unsure about why I tiptoe quietly around here at night since it seems that M can sleep through pretty much anything. I could probably put on heavy boots and stomp around the house in the middle of the night, and he would be completely unaware of it.)
I went back to bed and must have slept for a little while because the next thing I remember is a loud clap of thunder that rattled the house and jolted me out of bed. I walked back to the living room and looked out to see that the lightning had intensified and moved closer. The thunder boomed and crashed and rumbled, and a thick wall of rain was battering the deck and ground. After a while the rain itself began to sound thunderous.
I am not sure how long it rained. Before I went back to bed I turned off the air conditioning so I could listen to the rain. Eventually it calmed and lulled me to sleep. According to the rain gauge, we received 1.5 inches of rain in what was probably less than an hour. Maybe less than thirty minutes.
I took an early walk this morning. Everything was sparkling and gleaming from the raindrops. The ground was spongy and wet, and all the trees and flowers and even the earth itself seemed to be soothed by the good dousing of rain. The birds were happily playing in puddles and the bird bath.
I thought of T. S. Eliot’s La Figlia che Pianga when I saw the sunlight streaming over the morning glory vines on the garden fence. Oh, not the weeping girl since there was no weeping girl leaning on a garden urn, but the “weave, weave the sunlight in your hair” part.
Those that calculate such things said it felt like 106 degrees (F) by nine o’clock this morning. For once, I didn’t notice the heat. Not at first. There was a sweet breeze coming off the water, perhaps the promised sea breeze. The swallowtail butterflies and hummingbird moths were already making their rounds of the gardens when I went out.
It felt good to spend a little time outdoors. I’ve been avoiding it, and I think that is part of what leads to my summertime blues. Out of curiosity, I finally did a search for reverse SAD the other day, and it turns out I am not the only person on the planet who doesn’t experience summer weather with great joy. I do okay with summer until I reach the point where I can’t bear to go outside and find myself yearning for the days when I can once more take a walk in the woods or stand in the garden and watch the small visitors enjoy the flowers. Like those who experience SAD in winter, I have to force myself out once in a while for my own good. Even in the oppressive heat (or cold for those who have symptoms of SAD in winter), Mother Nature heals.
I reckon that’s it from the Wabi-Sabi Ranch on this sweltering Tuesday. Thank you for stopping by and joining me on another walk. Sunsets have not been particularly inviting lately. Clouds gather on the horizon and block the sun about an hour or so before it sets, leaving it rather gray. If it looks like it might be interesting tonight, I’ll meet you at the Point. Sunset is at 7:54 this evening. Hopefully there will be a nice breeze to keep the heat and the insects away.
Be good, be kind, be loving. Just Be. 🙂
Today’s joys: Rain in the early morning hours; a lovely breeze while out on my walk; a time of ease before the heat took over; all the creatures in the gardens; a weaving of light and shadow.