Monday, May 3, 2010
The curtains billowing in the breeze last night woke me up several times. The scent of rain wasn't quite in the air yet, but it was cool and moist, just waiting for the right moment to break from suspension into droplets. By the time the skies lightened to a dull grey this morning, the pattering had commenced.
The first comments I heard from the little ones were "I hope it stops raining today! I hope the sun comes out," looking from the skies to me with hopefulness, as if I had any control over the weather.
Even if I did, though, I'm not sure I would change it today. At least, not just yet. Right now the leaves are dripping and swaying under each dollop of water as it works its way down the tree from tip to root. The rain has abated for the most part, and doves are cooing quietly while songbirds tune up. A jay is calling from across the field out back, and over it all is the quiet sigh of the breeze.
It's not really warm, it's certainly not dry or sunny. But it's a quiet, introspective kind of morning, one in which you could hear yourself think, if you wanted to. But I'm not listening for that. After so much busyness the last several weeks, I'm rocking in my chair and listening to something outside, watching the drops fall down.