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Get to the other side.
I was thinking about what to write in here, when a literal moment ago rain started coming down. Pouring down, really - one second, quiet night, the next, buckets. It's an astonishing thing for me to hear, every time. Beyond the sound of rain: the sudden sound of rain. Without announcement, it arrives, and it lessens a bit and still sticks around and goes back up and down and then...gone.
Which has me thinking about how I'll pull my mask down in the park, sometimes, and catch a bit of the last of the cherry blossoms scents, or the good soft moisture of the little wilderness at the very end of the bike path.
There was a painter in the park today, parked just a few inches from a branch still heavy with petals. The easel laid out flat, all the paint around. Getting in that close attention to that one set of blossoms.
Given the rain right now, I guess today was their last day to grab it.
Which has me thinking about how I'll pull my mask down in the park, sometimes, and catch a bit of the last of the cherry blossoms scents, or the good soft moisture of the little wilderness at the very end of the bike path.
There was a painter in the park today, parked just a few inches from a branch still heavy with petals. The easel laid out flat, all the paint around. Getting in that close attention to that one set of blossoms.
Given the rain right now, I guess today was their last day to grab it.