Gratitude Sunday: Rain Awakens

Gratitude * Sunday
Sunday’s heartfelt tradition.
A time to slow down, to reflect, to be grateful.
A list of gratitudes, our gratefulness feeds one another.
Quoted from Taryn Wilson
Joining the Gratitude Sunday Tradition at Wooly Moss Roots.


Sunday Haiku

Day after day dawn
arrives misted, obscured by
soft blankets of fog.

Sunday Musings
Rain woke me last night. In this house I am very conscious of the rain. For some reason the noise of rain hitting the roof, the ground, my near-by metal roofed multi-purpose building a few feet away, is extremely loud. I do not recall being so aware of the sound of the rain in any previous house, though many have been single storied like this one.

I like the rain. I like watching it from a safe warm place inside. I like walking in rain, feeling it caress or beat my skin. I like what rain does to refresh the air and the soil. I like the squilch under my feet when I walk on rain drenched grass and mossy soil. I like the variety rain presents itself in from the barest misted fog to great sweeping sheets of water slicing through the air, gravity pulling the water droplets inexorably to the ground. I like that rain refreshes rivers for fishes and water creatures, and feeds the plants that live in such abundance in earth’s soil.

Now snow is a whole other look at water. Cold is not kind to my body, and if it is cold enough for snow, well, there I am. Snow is so lovely to look at but the repercussions are often overwhelming, can’t walk on it, can’t dig my way out or drive my way out, sometimes caught between grocery trips so without something or other. Mere rain does not impede the process of the day, but freeze the water into snow and process slows or stops. When it snows, though I like to watch it, I want to just climb under blankets until it is gone. I loved the fun part of snow like snow angels, building snow forts and snowmen, and throwing snowballs when I was a child and young woman, but these activities cease to be fun when the cold hurts.

Of course, the weather is the weather, whether you like it or not. I like sun and heat as well, but in moderation. I am no longer a girl of extremes; I prefer a comfortable temperature of about 70 degrees. To place my aching body in the heating and healing rays of the sun feels mighty wonderful. With weather, however, we don’t get to say or even get our way. We must do with what we are given. Perfect organic support for carpe diem.

Rain can have some disadvantages, such as when there is too much of it too fast and the rivers flood, or it finds it’s way into your nice solid home, which renders it not so solid anymore. You can’t stop the force of water, as Doctor Who says in The Waters of Mars, “Water always wins.”

Where do birds and squirrels and critters go during the rain? I don’t know enough about bird behavior or biology, but nature likely makes the wings of birds and the coats of critters somewhat water repellant, else they would not survive much water. I imagine birds are clever enough to find hiding places, in shrubbery or near tree trunks or holes in houses. I’ve seen birds hunkered down on branches, their heads pulled into their shoulders as if trying to bring their shoulders over their heads like umbrellas. A hummingbird built her nest outside the window of my workplace in a lovely flowering cherry. She positioned her nest in such a way that when it rained the combination of the three leaves on the branch above her nest created a natural umbrella shooting the water away from her and her nest and there she rode out the worst of Oregon springtime storms. In this lovely home she raised two fledglings who fledged the day after my mother died and I never saw any of them again.

I imagine squirrels curling in their leafy nests or in holes in the trunks of trees, neither a completely dry haven not completely exposed. Our suburban/rural area possums and raccoons already know all the places to hide under houses and decks, in crawl space vents and lean-tos, under boats and lumber or wood piles. Many suburban/rural dwellers share their yards with these critters and until damage is discovered the humans often have no idea the proximity of the critters unless it rains and the critter looks for a drier spot to hide.

Today a nap sounds like a needed part of the day’s process after being awakened by the resounding resonance of rain thrumming on soft earth and man-made metal. The rain surprised me, but usually once I realize the sweet natural rain woke me I can go back to sleep again. I sleep so tenuously catching two hours here and two hours there, I want to be angry at the rain for waking me, but that would be a waste of good honest emotion since nothing can be done to alter the weather. Every two hours counts, I guess, even if it is not consecutive. I’m going to count it.

Color Watch – colorful attractions in my neighborhoods this week – how bright the green reflects the light of this abundant clump of grass; DSCN7394 a soft beige brown of spent mint flowers against an old bedstead I use in my little garden area for vines to grow against; DSCN7388 the browning of the sporophyte forest amidst the greening of the mossery on the fairy pathway. DSCN7333

Currently Reading – Anna Karenina (1878, fiction) by Leo Tolstoy, Making Yourself Indispensable: The Power of Personal Accountability (2012, psychology) by Mark Samuel; Mr Strangelove: A Biography of Peter Sellers (2002, biography) by Ed Sikov. Yes, concurrently.

Have you joined me in reading this year’s Sassy Kas Winter Classic choice, Anna Karenina? Especially if you haven’t read classics before, winter seems to be a good time to enjoy a different time and place in literature. I’m learning about Russian history, economics, farming, education policies, and politics along the way. Perhaps that is what people mean when they critique “dreary Russian literature”. Fourteen pages of threshing grass can get tedious, but it makes one appreciate the modern use of gas powered mowers and farm equipment. And the love story part is on par with any Victorian English author.

This week I have been grateful for:

  • Waking up today.
  • Being able to walk.
  • Being able to work.
  • Being done with the fever and chills days of the flu part of the evil hacking cough sickness and that my cough remains clear and productive.
  • The peaceful words of Langston Hughes.
  • Discovering the art work of Susan Branch.
  • Rain.
  • Electric lights to brighten a rain cloud darkened day.
  • The fragrance of fresh roasted coffee beans. The taste of espresso from freshly ground beans. The hubster who makes such a good cup. Thick whole cream to put in my cuppa.
  • Birdsong after the rain.
  • Birdsong between the waves of rain.
  • Water.

Hoping you have a lovely week.

Namaste. Peace. Blessings.


Floral ribbon border by Laurel Burch

This entry was posted in abundance, GRATITUDE, Grief, Health, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Science and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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