Rain on a Smoke Tree Leaf
“The most significant gifts are the ones most easily overlooked. Small, everyday blessings: woods, health, music, laughter, memories, books, family, friends, second chances, warm fireplaces, and all the footprints scattered throughout our days.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd
Sick today. A family of gerbils has moved into my ears, creating a wonderful muffled sound. And a miniature Mike Holmes (from “Holmes on Homes”) is wielding a jack hammer in my sinuses. (Aside: If you like home renovation shows, “Holmes on Homes” is the best; Corey and I both love it.) Today is one of those days that calls for a nightgown and a book.
Other than this wonderful news, not much going on. Cold and rainy outside. Dogs are sleeping. Brett is playing “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2,” an early Christmas present from my mother. Tomorrow, he is getting his picture taken for the yearbook; we never got his senior portraits made, and tomorrow is a make-up day at his school for pictures, so we’re going to do that for now, and maybe get his formal portraits made next year.
Alexis dropped by on her way home from work to chat a bit, which is always a nice diversion. I had a few smaller purses that I am passing on to her. Even though my daughter has inherited my propensity for being a bag lady—and in some ways she has surpassed it by having different bags for different items—she has still not succumbed to the big purse addiction that I have possessed for years, which is a good thing.
One bit of good news (relatively speaking): I have a new phone line, same old POS phone. After getting six text messages in a row from Eamonn, I realize now that I did not miss having a phone at all, but since I get calls from doctors and other bureaucracies, I really needed to have a number to give them that wasn’t Corey’s since his phone will be with him on the boat come January.
Funny how I could live without a phone but not a computer. Maybe that’s because the computer does not make noise and interrupt my train of thought.
Thought I’d share a poem, this one by William Stafford:
You will never be alone, you hear so deep
a sound when autumn comes. Yellow
pulls across the hills and thrums,
or in the silence after lightning before it says
its names–and then the clouds’ wide-mouthed
apologies. You were aimed from birth:
you will never be alone. Rain
will come, a gutter filled, an Amazon,
long aisles—you never heard so deep a sound,
moss on rock, and years. You turn your head—
that’s what the silence meant: you’re not alone.
The whole wide world pours down.
~ William Stafford
Here is Ray Montagne’s “Be Here Now,” a perfect song for a rainy day:
More later. Peace.