Words and Weather

I had a most excellent weekend, filled with writing and reading and RAIN!!  Woo hoo.  Finally--at long last, after many parched and hideously dry months--it rained on Sunday.

But first...

Saturday the boys and I had a great though extremely humid walk.  The slogging heat seemed to melt something in my brain because the clamoring in my head from those interfering serial characters began to make sense.  I stopped for an iced mocha at the local coffee shop, then drove home and immediately began to write.  It was great and startling and a good thing all the chores were done, because I wrote until every last little gray cell had been prodded, poked and sucked dry.  Then I shut off the computer and walked away, letting things stew--in my head and on the nebulous pages of my word program.

After dinner I caught up on some television, finished a book, played with the dogs and drank a nice glass of wine.  Went to bed around midnight.  And suddenly found myself totally, completely, horribly wide awake.  High Noon awake.  Ten cups of coffee awake.  I tossed and turned for a bit, then switched on the TV, figuring there must be something mind-numbing that would bore me to sleep.



Maybe there was, but instead I accidentally stumbled upon a movie called Bright Star, the story of John Keats and Fanny Brawne.  And let me say, not only did I love the whole production, but holy crap, at the end I was bawling my head off right along with Fanny.  At 2:30 in the morning.

Ah well.  Nothing like a good tear-jerker to exhaust lull a girl to sleep.



So, I finally nod off around 3:00am, when close to 5:00 there is this bizarre sound that wakes me.  What in the world?  I get up, stumble into the living room and stand like a dope trying to figure out why I'm hearing drumming and whistling and rattling.  And then, like some lost, forgotten memory, I realize I'm listening to wind and rain, pounding and lashing around the house, on the roof, against the skylights.

I fling open the front door and god, I would bottle this joy if I could.  The cool, almost chilly current of fresh air that caressed my skin was intoxicating, raising goose bumps everywhere.  I actually stepped out onto the deck and let the rain drench me, the wind swirl and tease.  I could have swooned from the beauty of the storm, the clean scent of ozone, the wonder in being cool instead of hot, damp from rain not sweat.

When I was totally soaked, I came in, changed clothes and dried off, then went back to bed and slept like a baby as the wind raged and the rain pummeled.  Nirvana.

So yesterday was a Sunday of dark clouds, intermittent rain squalls and the first time since early May that I've worn my jeans and a pair of socks to walk the dogs.

Later in the afternoon I went back to the serial.  Rewrote a few things, clarified others, then decided it might be too long for an installment, so I spent more time trying to break the story into two parts.  After posting the first half, I decided to take the rest of the day off.  I watched movies and dinked and reveled at the lack of a sinister yellow orb scorching the earth from above.

This morning the sun was back, the temps are in the high 80s, the smoke is once again filling the valleys, and I sit here hot and sweaty.  Still, now I think I can stand it, because I know the end is almost here.

I felt the cool foreshadowing of Fall, the promise of change in the touch of the wind...and I am so ready.