Photo by Avishka
…to convey the utter gray blear of this Monday afternoon. Here’s all I’ve been able to come up with so far. Rain that’s a steady drone on the roof, and every now and then the wind will blow the rain across the roof shingles and it will sound almost musical, but not quite. Another gust will slam it into the screen and glass of the window and that will be a familiar childhood sound—rain so torrential being trapped indoors was the best it was going to get. Every few minutes for the past several hours, there’s been the sound of a plane taking off from the airport, the flight pattern changed because of today’s weather to go pretty much directly over the house. It’s hard not to want to draw an analogy to what it must sound like in a war zone.
It’s a hard day to shake the blues, to feel perky and upbeat and optimistic and into creative writing. Tonight there will be music, a cappella for the holiday season from the Tallis Scholars. In an hour, I’ll make a strong cup of coffee. I’d walk to get one at Extracto over on Killingsworth but I’m not sure I would survive the deluge in any way intact.
Stronger, more disciplined, more ambitious souls than me would use all this to their advantages. I wallow instead. Days like these feel like waiting, waiting, waiting for no one quite knows what.
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
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