Finished the JD Robb book – Devoted in Death. It was good, a little bland but overall good. I read a bit in Cast in Sorrow by Michele Sagara. However, it was raining last night and the sound of the rain, the thrum of it lulled me to turn out the lights early (for me) and go to sleep.
As I lay in the dark, words rushed into my head (no surprise there) and I turned on my phone and spoke them into the phone which then copied them down. When I have time, I’ll see if they make a poem.
There is something soothing about the rain and thunder. It seemed to roll through last night. I ache everywhere with my arthritis but the sounds, the clean smell, all of it just seems to sooth me.
This morning there are amazing clouds, from white to grey to darker almost black. The formations are incredible. It looks like someone smeared a brush across the sky with different colors. They’re moving pretty quick, changing the scene as they go. It’s beautiful.
|View outside my office window
The weather in Wisconsin has been a series of rainstorms washing through on a daily basis. I love thunderstorms – the thunder, the lightning, the sound of the rain on the roof – all in trance me. Watching a storm roll over the land is amazing.
What isn’t so amazing is how my body has been reacting to these storms. I’ve got arthritis so generally everything aches when we are going to have a storm. Mostly, I manage with the pain as it comes and goes with the weather issues. This last week though, I’ve had throbbing sinus issues every time a storm comes. Essentially the left side of my face feels like the pressure is going to make my head explode.
This makes it difficult to do anything – edit, crochet, talk, breath. I’ve been doing all the right things – eucalyptus, heating pad, tylenol, extra allergy meds. Still the pain is there and I deal.
What frustrates me most is I’ve still got four and a half rows on the afghan to finish. I’ve got all the yarn I need (finally) and all I need to do is sit and crochet. The problem is I can’t because my head is going to explode.
I’m determined that this weekend those last rows will get done. I will have the afghan off my to do list and on my DONE (finally freaking done) list. It is gorgeous but I’m tired of working on it. I want to work on something else – anything else at this point.
Once that one is done I’ll be able to look at the other three I have piled up behind it and start on one of them. I’ll also be able to look at smaller projects to get done for holiday gifts. I have several things I want to experiment with – stitch sequences I want to try, patterns I want to try and there is always the colors and texture to consider too.
Before any of that fun can start, I have to just finish this one freaking afghan! It will be this weekend.
The grumbling rolling low thunder reverberates through the whole house as I snuggle into my covers. I just want to lay in bed and listen (or sleep) to the storm. As a child, I remember being afraid of storms. One of my early memories is of my sister Teri crawling into bed with me and comforting me during a storm. She told me that the thunder was just the angels bowling.
I don’t know if it was her assurances or the soothing nature of the storms but since then I’ve loved storms. When a storm rolls through I love to watch the clouds, dance and race across the sky. I love to feel the thunder rumble through the very core of me. I love the surprise and beauty of the moment of lightning. It is so symbolic that lightning is so beautiful and so quick to pass. That is somewhat like beauty in life. Our looks really only last a short time.
Storms are tumultuous, unpredictable, and fierce. Yet whenever we have one, I feel a sense of calm and balance. My poor aching joints don’t like them but my spirit seems to be able to ride storms like a well-trained horse. The storms rage around me and others scurry for cover. I stand and watch.
The storms seem to engage all my senses. The smell of a summer storm is different from that of an autumn storm. Spring storms bring a cleansing and newness with them. While winter storms are often crisp and clear.
There is even a different taste to the storms. Stick out your tongue to catch a snowflake. It tastes different than the raindrop of a summer thunderstorm.
People often grumble about the gray days. I find them to match life. There are times we are sunny and bright and there are times we are gray. We need both and hopefully find a balance in all of it.