“Tut, Tut, looks like rain”
“My mom says that when it rains you never feel like you should be anywhere but home.”
We are now enveloped in a cold and rainy period for at least another week. Cliff Mass, the meteorology professor at University of Washington, wrote on his blog that this is “liquid bounty” for the Northwest, with hopes it could stave off forest fire season by a few weeks this year. It is not good news for Anna’s soccer championship this week-end in Great Falls, in which games were delayed until the pitches were cleared of snow, nor for Fletcher’s outdoor graduation party next week-end. In California, where they are expecting 500% of normal precipitation through the end of May, Sarah said she was “so over it.” Just as things felt close to summer…alas, sigh, oh well.
On this cool and rainy week-end, I’ve been sequestered at home, not doing much of anything. Don has been gone and while I had grand plans for various house projects, I’ve just wandered around the house. I looked out the window, picked up a book, then stepped out on the porch again, back to the book, a little nippy nap on the sofa, another cup of tea. The pair of loons on the water have been making their wolf-like calls, so loud that I can hear them with the windows and doors all closed. I scan the lake, making sure they’ve found one another. I did have a beautiful walk this morning in light, misty rain, which felt like Ireland, so I looked online in search of holiday homes for sale at the sea, somewhere along the Atlantic Way, and found this cottage:
“This unique property has it all! Barry’s Cottage is located in the hamlet of Cromane, a beautiful fishing village on the famous Ring of Kerry and Wild Atlantic Way. This charming cottage was built in the 1940s with thick walls to protect it against Atlantic winds. It is a solid structure which can be renovated, modernised and extended according to the new owner’s wishes. It enjoys the most magnificent sea and mountain views.”
Then, I read some poetry, and looked out the window again, and reminded myself that we are but ‘fleeting clouds in the sky’, and all I need do is just pay attention, out my own window.
What to Do
by Joyce Sutphen
Wake up early, before the lights come on
in the houses on a street that was once
a farmer’s field at the edge of a marsh.
Wander from room to room, hoping to find
words that could be enough to keep the soul
alive, words that might be useful or kind
in a world that is more wasteful and cruel
every day. Remind us that we are
like grass that fades, fleeting clouds in the sky,
and then give us just one of those moments
when we were paying attention, when we gave
up everything to see the world in
a grain of sand or to behold
a rainbow in the sky, the heart