It is the second day of summer; at 5:30 this morning, a spectacular thunderstorm marched through Central New York, depositing more rain than the remainder of June has afforded us. I woke to open the blinds and watch the lightning and sheets of water from my bed, then fell asleep to the rhythm of the rain once the excitement died down.
Now I am moving slower than a slug, and I have resisted any sound but the raindrops. Periodically, the clouds let loose with curtains of rain falling straight down, soaking the soil and the roots of all the lilies, hostas, bee balm, and other perennials waiting to do their dance.
I am being intentional in my slow pace as well. I read 30 pages of Patti Smith’s “Just Kids” while nursing a tumbler of iced coffee. Once in awhile, just enough breeze jostled the wind chimes into performance. Now I am upstairs in my office that resembles the inside of my brain…an informed chaos.
This is the beginning of my summer. I have no book deadlines to meet this year. I hope to attend to my poems and the stack of memoirs I want to read. I need to weed and reorder the gardens front and back. And I am teaching a couple of workshops that will be most fulfilling. I hope that work centered on “Our Difficult Sunlight” presents itself soon and that all stabilizes for my bank account.
But this morning, I am being slow and conscious of the blessing of rain.
Thanks again for following my blog. I appreciate your consideration of my words and thoughts.