Saturday, October 23, 2010

Wet. Everywhere Wet.

Often I wonder how my little friend, Thumbelina, is doing.  Did she ever come to yearn for her winter in Mr. Mole's hole?  Did she ever wonder why she didn't appreciate all that quiet time?

Yesterday on the way out to the Lake, on the way up the mountain where the clouds had come down to touch the earth, magical things were going on in the misty morning.

Houses were aglitter.  Traps became sparkle.  Scotch Broom, mostly thought of as a horrible, invasive and explosive species, wears the silver droplets like the finest jewelry.

Life slows to a drop still.  The water cycle has begun.  Harvest may be over.  Some crops are in, some are not completely harvested.  This is life.  Here, in the earth bound cloud, all is quiet.  When the drop lets loose of the Broom there is a sound like an exhale.

Yesterday my eldest daughter turned 38.  Not one day has gone by that I've not been grateful for her presence.  Oh, she can holler, pout, swear, lie, and stomp around.  But, here's a secret:  her cheeks invented dimples.  Her black eyes invented dancing.

Is there anything to say about perfection?  No.  My impulse right now is to just jump in.  Of course, we might advise, take note of who built the temptation.  Check and see if you want to be dinner.

The rainy season may be upon us.  The clouds moved in as predicted.  They may move out.  For now the drops are warbling down the drain pipes, dripping from the tall maple, drumming on the palms.  I am loving this quiet, steady rain.



N2 said...

Oh, oh, oh! Love everyone of these. Such winsome crystalline wetness of Lilliputian proportions. Did you shrink yourself down to Thumbelina size to get these shots? Fabuleux! xx00 N2

Annie said...

Canopies of silk
at attention to catch Sky's
crystaline bounty

Bethany said...

happy birthday to your daugher, your words were so perfect. love these photos and the way you talk about the rain and the scotch broom.
sweetness and poetry always from you.
thank you.

Ms. Moon said...

"her cheeks invented dimples. Her black eyes invented dancing."
And you, my dear, are divine.

Anonymous said...

Such webs and waters, oh so lovely, and the WORDS, too, hover in the grasses, caught memories.

LindyLouMac said...

well you certainly seem to have made the most of the wet weather with your beautiful photos.

Jendocino said...

What gorgeous photos. The water droplets make it look like someone ran around scattering little glass beads everywhere. I want to go around with a basket and scoop them all up!

Bimbimbie said...

I love mornings like these - if not for the drops of rain or ice we would miss all those little spun worlds*!*

Lovely words about your daughter :)

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