I look at the rainbow afternoon and smile. It makes me happy.
The sky has been dark and dramatic and then blue with puffy clouds all day.
It has hailed and rained and drizzled. And thundered.
Street gutters are flowing – or backing up where drains are stopped by leaves.
Trees are dripping. Tree rain. Trees gather the water and consolidate it into big drops. And drip them on those who walk beneath their canopies. Like squirrels throwing nuts on people’s heads. I don’t mind tree rain. I do mind squirrel weapons.
I am tired of gray skies. Today’s dark skies are an improvement over dead gray.
Gray weather makes me sleepy. Gray weather makes it hard to get motivated to move, to clean, to organize, to plan, to cook, to exercise. To write.
I write the same thing over and over.
The skies turn blue, plants rejoice after enjoying, or enduring, their soaking. Birds sing. I saw a hummingbird in the Crepe Myrtle. The magical world stirs.
The tomato seeds I planted have sprouted. I hope today’s hail didn’t flatten them. I don’t have the heart to look. The lettuce, peas, and beans will be fine. The cosmos are just poking their green heads out of the ground. My herb bed is celebrating.
My giddy chickens are laying eggs like crazy. They feel warm weather coming. They are tired of walking on wet hay. They want to take dirt baths while basking in the sun. Their sauna is muddy.
The fish look at me when I walk out the back door. They are starting to get hungry again. They don’t eat during winter. Yet, somehow, they grow. Each spring, when they emerge from their sleep-state they are bigger. I sit on my flat rock by the pond and sprinkle food in the water, watching the colorful swirl of koi. Big koi.
My husband will be home soon. My kids are well. My friends are well. I am happy.