April 8, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th year where I write and illustrate a blog on each day's gift.)
The rhythm of rain on the roof and water pouring down the spout greeted me as I stretched in bed this morning. I had planned to walk in the park today and the rain did not matter. I’ve discovered that damp days in the woods have a magical calming effect. The park seems to take on a different personality. In the sun, I hear children’s voices echo on the playground and see shadows stalk me on the ground; in the rain, sounds becomes muffled, dampness surrounds me like a cocoon and I can easily slip into another world, another layer.
Today I pulled onto an empty parking lot and, except for the staff, I was the only human there. But I was not alone. I was accompanied on my walk by the constant avian chatter above as light drizzle tapped on my umbrella. It was the kind of light rain that teased every twig, every leaf, every bud, by clinging, drop by drop in the emerald woods. Liquid spheres, each reflecting its world, were multiplied in the trees by billions. I squinted my eyes and looked through my eyelashes at the wonderland that surrounded me, sparkling like diamonds. I was bedazzled.
After a couple miles, I returned to the parking lot just as another car pulled up. Out of all the spaces available, the pickup truck parked right next to my car. Is there something so strong in human nature, something yearning for connection so much, that on an empty parking lot with ample spaces, someone would park next to the only car on the lot?
My gift today is a diamond forest.
> Day 121 Forgetting
You can find links to my other posts on this project here: