Posted tagged ‘puddles’

“He slides into second with a stand up double.”

February 12, 2018

The rain started yesterday morning and continued into this morning. It was at times gentle and at other times fierce torrents. Puddles formed in the lower parts of some roads. The cars in front of me alerted me to the puddles and I drove slowly. One puddle was so high it was almost up to the top of my tires. The cape has no sewer systems so the rain has nowhere to go. Yesterday afternoon I had to brave the deluge and run to my car. I got soaked. I sat there just a bit when all of a sudden there was a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning. I love thunder storms

Last night the wind was tremendous, and the rain pounded my roof. Had I been Noah, I would have hoped the ark was ready.

I did go to the dump yesterday during a lull from the heavy rain; however, as my luck would have it, the rain started just as I got to the first recycle bin. But the guy there told me to stay in my car, and I did. Next stop was the trash bins. I unloaded my trunk and asked the guy there to throw them in the bins as the bags were too heavy for me to do that. Why were they too heavy you might ask. I have the answer.

Almost two weeks ago I slid out my door and fell. I used my right hand to brace myself when my left foot went sliding. I sat on the step a while until my leg and my hand mostly stopped hurting. Well, they never really did stop hurting. Sleeping has been intermittent. The pain from movement wakes me up as do my own groans. It took a couple of days before I could use my hand. The swelling mostly went down. The problem was I couldn’t lift any thing with that hand, and I had to find a comfortable position so it didn’t hurt. Saturday and Sunday my hand was so painful I decided to have it checked. I went to Urgent Care where I had x-rays. I have a fracture. That totally surprised me. The doctor wants me to see an ortho in case I need surgery. My hand is now encased in one of those velcro sorts of casts. I’ll call my doctor for a referral.

This is the first time I ever remember sliding. I am the falling sort. I guess I have falling down pat as I haven’t ever been hurt. Now I’ll have to work on sliding.

“I’ve got a great ambition to die of exhaustion rather than boredom.”

March 5, 2016

I want to yell out my window, “I’m mad as hell, and I won’t take it anymore,” but I’d probably freeze myself and the house in the process. March winds blow cold. The sun is a background ornament, bright but useless. Warm weather is supposed to be arriving next week. I hope so as I truly need one deck day to rid myself of winter malaise.

When I was a kid, I never minded winter weather except when it rained. I hated winter rain. I swear my wet clothes used to freeze on the walk home. My jacket stiffened from the ice. My wool mittens got wet and useless. My fingers were red from the cold. Water bubbled from my shoes when I walked. My hair hung down on my face and sometimes dripped onto my neck and down the back of my jacket. Winter rain is relentless.

Summer rain was a gift. It cooled a hot day. Steam would rise from the sidewalks. We’d stay outside and get soaked knowing when the sun reappeared, it would dry our clothes. I’d splash puddles and watch the water fan. We floated paper boats down the rivers streaming in the gutters next to the sidewalks. I’d ride my bike and head for every puddle. I remember taking my feet off the pedals and letting my bike glide through the water. I don’t remember my mother dragging us in when there was thunder and lightning, but I guess she must have. Either that or we were just plain lucky.

Today is chore day. My laundry bag is spilling over. The clean sheets have sat on the chest at the foot of my bed for three days. It’s about time I got to them. The plants need watering. The kitchen needs to be swept. I know as I do one chore two more will pop up. Just now I noticed the wire connecting the computer to electricity was dirty at the top, close to the computer. I stopped writing, went to the kitchen, got a Clorox sheet and cleaned the wire. It is going to be one of those days. I blame it all on winter. Ennui is the perfect description for my mood today.

“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

April 25, 2014

The red spawn of Satan is driving me mad. I am Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight. I swear the spawn sits and stares at me then blatantly jumps onto the feeder with a swish of its tail. Today I am super- soaker shopping.

Around where I lived when I was a kid, there were woods, the all-season swamp, blueberry bushes and a huge field filled in the summer with grasshoppers by day and fireflies by night. On one exploration we, my brother and I, found a small box-like shack in the side woods. It was made up of odd boards and must have been newly constructed or we’d have seen it before then. When we looked inside, we saw magazines, girly magazines as we used to call them. We left them there and high-tailed it out of the shack. Later, when I was older, I figured the shack probably belonged to some teenage boys who were hiding the magazines, but I never saw anyone there. I never went back inside. I think I was afraid.

Some things stay with you. I remember the sound of the roller skates on the street and the different sound they made on the black top. I also remember how odd my feet felt once I’d stopped roller skating. They sort of tingled on the bottoms. It was different with ice skating. The sides of my feet hurt and walking felt strange. Downhill on a bike was the best feeling of all. It was speed, and I loved it when the wind whipped my hair. I never used the pedals. I let the incline do the work. While walking home from school in the rain, we’d stomp a big puddle over and over and watch the water fly. The puddle would get smaller and smaller until almost no water was left. We got soaked. My shoes were so squishy bubbles broke through at the laces. Once we got inside the house, my mother right away made us take our shoes off.

Every late afternoon we sat and watched television. We sat on the floor close to the set. My mother was always in the kitchen making dinner. My father wouldn’t be home until later. He’d come in the door wearing his topcoat and his fedora. He’d put the fedora on the top shelf of the closet by the door and he’d hang up his topcoat. He always wore a suit underneath.

When I was a kid, my life was filled with constants. They made me feel safe and comfortable.

“A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache.”

March 8, 2012

The wind is so strong Gracie and I heard a crash and rushed to find the source. My umbrella had been blown down, and it banged as it hit the deck rail. Come to find out there is a wind advisory, and the winds could be as strong as 55 MPH. I decided my umbrella is probably safest where it is.

Already it is 56° which is almost tropical for this time of year. The sun is bright and the sky perfectly blue. If there were no wind, it would be a lovely deck day, but the wind is so strong the tops of the pine trees are swaying left and right. The bird feeders are swaying like carnival rides, but the birds act as if nothing is happening. The gold finches are back, and the males’ chests are brighter. Yesterday I had a house finch and today a flicker. 

I keep stopping to look out the window when I hear the wind. The wild, swooshing sound makes me feel a bit like Dorothy arriving at the house just before the tornado hit. I won’t be surprised to find my yard littered with pine branches. The pine are delicate trees.

I remember walking to or from school when it was windy. We’d face the wind, raise our arms to our sides and let the wind take us. It would go up our sleeves and make our jackets billow. I always felt as if I were flying. We’d laugh the whole time.

When I was young, the weather was rarely a topic of conversation. Snow was all we cared about as it carried the prospect of a snow day. Rain was disappointing as we couldn’t go out and play unless it was a light summer rain. After the rain, though, was always the most fun. Puddles meant slamming your foot in the water and splashing yourself and anyone near you. The wetter we got, the more fun we had. Our feet would slosh in our sneakers and bubbles would come up by our toes. We never cared. Sneakers always dried.

Adulthood has its privileges but much is lost. Puddles are to be avoided. Wet shoes and mud oozing between your toes stop being fun. I never walk bare-footed any more. Sandals are about as close as I get. I’m thinking it’s time again to feel the softness of the grass and the warmth of a puddle left by the summer rain.

“Everywhere water is a thing of beauty gleaming in the dewdrop, singing in the summer rain.”

August 7, 2011

The rain is steady but gentle so I can still hear the single drops as they fall on the leaves by the deck. Every now and then a bird calls. The house is dark, the sort of dark which feels safe and lends itself to contemplation. I have no plans for the day except maybe doing a wash. The laundry bag of clothes has been sitting and waiting for two days by the cellar door.

Gracie sits by the back door and watches the rain. Soon enough it will be her morning nap time. What a lovely way to fall asleep: gently lulled by the drops of rain. She’ll sleep in her crate. She loves it on days like today.

I am in a reading mood today. I see myself lying on the couch, quite comfy and cozy. I don’t have a book to read, but I figure I can download something. When I was young, I used to lie in bed with the headboard light on and read all afternoon when it rained. Even then I’d leave the windows opened so I could hear the rain fall. In a house filled with people, I always felt as if I were alone, as if I were the only person in the house. It was always the most peaceful time I can remember.

I loved riding my bike through puddles. I think it was a bit like Moses parting the Red Sea. On each side of me a giant wave was whooshed into the air by my tires as I rode through. My sneakers and the bottoms of my jeans always got soaked, but I never cared. Puddles were far too much fun for such small considerations as wet shoes and pants.

Rain in Ghana never stopped the world. Everyone was always out and about their business as if the day were sunny. I did the same thing. Before I left, I was given a fold-up umbrella as a gift. My first week there, when I had used it in the rain, I left it in a room, and it was gone when I went back a short while later. That didn’t really matter. After that, I just walked in the rain the same as everyone else.


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