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A Tuesday stroll

Morning (glory) in the garden.
Morning (glory) in the garden.

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—
Lean on a garden urn—
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair—

~ T. S. Eliot

After the storm.
After the storm.

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.

Visiting the pond.
Visiting the pond.

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.

I think this is an immature male cardinal whose red feathers are beginning to molt in.
I think this is an immature male cardinal whose red feathers are beginning to molt in.

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.)

Hi!
Good morning!  Did you know it rained last night?

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.

Time for breakfast.
Time for breakfast.

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.

The birds were out and about early this morning.
The birds were out and about early this morning.

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.

Sparkling around the redbud leaves.
Sparkling around the redbud leaves.

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.

Climbing.
A damp soul.

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.

Collecting raindrops.
Collecting raindrops.

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.

Because of this.
Because of this.  (Hummingbird moth.)

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.

And this.
And this.

Be good, be kind, be loving.  Just Be.  🙂

And this, too.
And this, too.

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.

So much beauty.
So much beauty.
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Author:

Robin is a photographer, artist, writer, wife, sometime poet, mom, grandma, daughter, sister, friend, and occasional traveler currently living on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. She finished a 365 commitment to get outside every day in 2011, and has turned it into a lifelong commitment taking one or more walks each day. Robin will continue to share her walks through her words and images on Breezes at Dawn. Older posts can be found at Life in the Bogs, her previous blog. Robin and her husband are in the midst of renovating the house and property they refer to as the Wabi-Sabi Ranch, 35 acres that include marsh, a dock on a tidal creek, meadows, and woodlands. Every day brings new discoveries.

11 thoughts on “A Tuesday stroll

  1. Nice to stroll with you today. As always, I love your pictures. Amazing – the colors of that moth, matching the flower so perfectly.. I hope the doe doesn’t get sick. Sad she is drinking where she doesn’t normally, but now that you have had some blessed rain, perhaps she will find fresher water. Pretty butterflies too and the poem is really nice. I loved the cardinal series.
    We are having rain right now too. So nice!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love your description of the storm and deluge, Robin (why DO guys sleep so soundly? I can only wish…). Love all the rain-drenched photos.
    I’m glad the beautiful pollinators lure you outside. Thankfully, my summers aren’t as oppressive as yours or I would have SAD, too. It’s bad enough for me in the winter, but at least I can dress warmly. You can’t shed your your skin and the pool only does so much. Do you take Vit.D? I recommend it if you don’t. 2000 iu. should do it. SAD is simply a deficiency and it is alleviated by supplements.

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  3. Such gorgeous pictures! The hummingbird meh is stunning and the morning glories–that blue is so beautiful. I’m glad you got rain. It rained buckets here last night! Lots of thunder and lightning. Things here are quite green for August, which is normally a bit burnt up. Do get out. Early morning or later in the evening. This is a bit hot even for me, but I still go out. I feel like I’m charging up for winter. I wish I could bottle the light.

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  4. The light and shadow and raindrops in your photos make for lovely compositions. It’s so cool here in the mountains of CO, but I can sympathize about staying inside when there are heat and humidity.

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  5. We are not nearly as hot as you, nor do we have the humidity, but still this time of year I go out early in the day to do what must be done, then come back in out of the sun until late afternoon when I sit on the shady deck and enjoy the breeze for awhile. Being in the sun I no longer do.

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  6. I confess I had to go and reread Eliot’s poem. It’s been such a long time since I’ve read it.
    We didn’t get the storms. Every day there has been a chance or threat–but I’m glad we didn’t get one like yours. (My husband could sleep through it, too. He’s a bit better than when he was young, when he slept through earthquakes, storms, pounding on the door. . .) 🙂
    The photo of the doe is poignant somehow. I like the cardinal photos, too.

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  7. Interesting to learn about reverse SAD – I never knew it was a thing. 🙂 I definitely suffer from it and will try some of the suggestions in the articles. Thanks for the tip, Robin!

    Loving the picture of the immature male cardinal…

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  8. Beautiful pictures, Robin. I particularly liked the series with the cardinal. Sunday I forced myself to sit in the heat outside for an hour or so and read, and I glanced over at a cardinal several times that was bustling around in the trees. I was thinking about the way they move from zero degree days in winter to 100 degree days in summer, and always they look the same. They look, they see, they move. So in the flow with what is happening. It is inspiring…

    Peace
    Michael

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  9. Enjoyed your walk and photos as I always do, however your description of the day’s joys are what really caught me – how lovely. I feel myself forgetting to appreciate those things as I begin to ramp up for school to begin again and that was really lovely to read, like a gentle reminder.

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  10. The shapes of the flowers and the pump mirror each other in the that first image – great color contrast.
    Nothing is as nice as hearing a storm and rain on the roof when all are safe and accounted for.
    I’ve always had to deal with summer SAD – My brother is the reverse and has it in winter. The long summer hours of glaring sun and oppressive heat and humidity leach energy right out of you. Then one day on morning dog walk, the sun will be at a slightly different slant and ah, summer is finally leaving. The first coold breeze is so welcomed.
    Great pictures as usual!

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Comments are delightful and always appreciated. I will respond when I can (life is keeping me busy!), and/or come around to visit you at your place soon. Thank you!

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