The sky has a glow even at ten pm but the stormy skies drive me in instead of out.
Just a week ago the days shone like July, full of a building heat, an invitation to the pond, late afternoon on the shady screened in porch. Yard needing to be mowed, garden to be weeded the desire of a long glass of water with lemon and ice. The recognition of just how gratifying a glass of water can be. the joy of lightening bugs sighted in the trees.
But this morning, leaving the house early for a meeting it could have been late fall if not for the green on trees or early spring. And as I watch myself shift I realize again how bound we are to the weather around us. I wonder if there is anyone not effected by the day we find ourselves in the midst of? What would it be like to expect consistency from the sky?
I can’t imagine and so instead pay attention to my own barometer and the quiet that settles around me between the rain’s patterned fall.