Friday, June 26, 2015


Such a day already.  The grandson is over for a few days and we had planned to go riding bikes out of Yellow Springs this morning with a Young’s Dairy ice cream ‘chaser’ to finish.  Alas, a very steady rain all over the area makes riding a very wet choice.  Instead, Grandpa Tom has determined it will be the 2 pm showing of ‘Journey into Space’ in 3D at the Museum of the United States Air Force this afternoon, rain or shine.  Grammy and Noah are in favor.   

In the interim I am sitting solo under the back porch canopy while a gentle but steady rain visits Wild Grace, the little domain Cindy Lou & I call home.  

There are other things I could/should be doing, like working on the book or getting a few overdue things ready for mailing, but I am having a hard time getting out of this chair to do anything else but sit, listen, and be present with the amazing abundance of this late June all-morning rain in southwest Ohio.  

Of course, there is the subliminal jousting going on in my brain’s decision-making center.  Work good.  Progress good.  Resolution of work begun some time ago good. 

Yet in the sense of mindfulness, I am aware of the uncommon gift of being able to sit for an extended time under a canvas drum listening to the essential cycle of life on this planet making its own unique style of music.  It is a calming and beautiful thing just being present with Nature as it unfolds.  Sunny days are great, but rainy days with personal quiet time achieved is something to savor.  

It is, nonetheless, difficult to get the idea out of my head that I really should get something accomplished this morning.  I can think of two women I care for deeply who are working a full day today, giving of their time to make the world a better place.  Their time is not their own.  Me?  I’m sitting at home listen to it rain.    

I was hoping to write a blog about my experience with Paul Winter on Hog Island a couple weeks ago, but I figured such will take at least two hours if not more and I couldn’t find the motivation to remove myself from my rain meditation to focus energies somewhere other than this.  

Then thoughts drifted more deeply out into Wild Grace as I began to consider how important this natural watering is for all things green and for all those depending on those things green for sustenance and livelihood.  A hummingbird or two have braved falling rain to visit the sweetwater feeder hanging just above me.  A chipmunk just happened up onto the patio, took one look at me and froze, then tore off like his life was in danger after I said good morning.  Life is going on all around me.  It is palpable and fragrant and significant and as Real as it gets.  

Which made me think what a great blog topic that would be.  How important is sitting and listening to Nature go about her business on a rainy day?  Shoot, such could be an icebreaker for writing in general.  If I could get this one out plus the one on Paul Winter, maybe I could parlay that into an extended weeks-long writing period.  Maybe.  I’m still not quite sure how this writing thing is supposed to work for me. 

But right now I remain under canopy on the back porch, listening to rain patter and a few wet bird songs emanating from under a wetter, greener canopy encompassing the universe beyond. 

Yes, I could get busy doing other more practical stuff, but right now I’m just going to sit, sip a little water of my own, and listen.  

Today’s elder idea:   Humankind, despite its artistic abilities, sophistication, and accomplishments, owes its existence to a six-inch layer of farmable soil and the fact that it rains.

images:  originals off the back porch on a rainy morning