There are few sensations that make me as giddy as sunshine on my shoulders. Just like John Denver, it makes me happy. Sometimes I dance around a little or skip or just smile as widely as my cheeks will allow.
It seems as though winter has finally bid us all adieu. Remember this post? It’s the one where I tried to come up with ways that winter could be a good thing. Though I’m sold most solidly on the idea that it only exists to make us more grateful for 50 degree and up weather, I suppose it could also be just so that we toughen up, become more resilient.
Regardless of why it came, it’s gone now. Rainy April has come officially today and polka-dotted the sidewalks.
Rain makes me sentimental, along with the fading daylight of a beautiful Saturday. There’s a feeling in the air when it rains that takes me back to Minnesota, to our three-season porch/one-season freezer. I’m sitting in the papasan chair with a book while the rain pounds on the roof and the thunder crashes.
The rain is more audible in here, something about a thinner ceiling or more windows. The cool air finds its way in somehow, even though the windows are shut. The rain would provide a lovely background for a night of reading, but she isn’t satisfied to be anything but the center of my attention tonight.
So I sit with an open book limply in my hand, ingesting no words, simply being captivated by the rain.
Daisy, give yourself away. Look up at the rain, a beautiful display of power and surrender.
Simultaneous power and surrender, something the world doesn’t seem to understand but displayed in the simplicity of the water cycle regularly.
Ah, the rain.