June 1, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th years where I write and illustrate a blog on each day’s gift.)
There is something about an afternoon rain, rolling with thunder, lightning and the smell of wet earth. It is exciting, soothing and rejuvenating all wrapped in one package. As a child, I used to sit in my bedroom window to watch storms. For some reason, I never associated rain with sadness like most poets do. A rain storm awakens the senses—touch of tiny pin points of rain on the skin, sound of deep-throated thunder, sight of lightning flashes silhouetting whatever lies between it and me, taste of raindrops like beansprouts and rich smell of earth. Oh, there’s nothing like the smell of wet earth to arouse primal feelings. I always say that spring has truly arrived when earthworms crawl out onto the sidewalk after a rain.
Today I was fascinated by raindrops striking my porch railing again and again and again and again. My spirit soaked up the sound and watched this liquid dance. Sheets of rain poured down first perpendicularly and then angled at 45 degrees, depending on the ever-changing and swirling wind. Water drops shot down from above, allegro against the wooden railing and they bounced up allongé in every direction. Some danced pas de deux up and away, one leap after another. If I looked closely, I could see the rapid path of each drop, an energetic dance on a wooden stage.
How could anyone equate this dynamic performance with sadness? It was full of joy.
My gift today is a water ballet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You can find links to my other posts on this project here: