Awakening to a few rolls of thunder, I rolled over on my side and curled into myself for a few more minutes of sleep before facing the day. A hint of coffee and bacon drifted into the bedroom, stirring the senses and giving hope for a stomach-centered start for the day. More thunder sounded. I got up and walked into the dining room, where a robe still hung from a chair. Wrapping it around myself, I made my way groggily past Andy and out onto the backyard patio.
It was the same temperature as inside the house, but the rain was pouring down. We needed it, badly, and I stood there listening to its cadence on the canopy, watching it fall into the flowerpots and over the garden, revitalizing the plants and the lawn. It was a sublime sort of gloom – the sort of summer rain that doesn’t feel so much sad as contemplative. There can be something very soothing about rain in certain measured doses. That we are due for a few days of storms probably means the reconciliation won’t last, but for now it’s a welcome switch from the 90 degree heat. As expected, this string of rainy weather comes just as our pool renovation was about to begin, so I maintain my no-hopes-up stance of not having a pool this summer season, and I’ll do a few extra minutes of meditation to accept it.
The rain has mottled the leaves of our fig trees in pretty fashion, and runs over the blooms of a begonia, aiding in its weeping form. I can’t tell if the plants are annoyed or grateful; sometimes you can sense happiness in them. Maybe they’re just not accustomed to being wet this year. It does take some adjusting.
Back inside, the bacon is filling the kitchen with its promising aroma – perhaps I’ll make some sort of egg breakfast to go along with it. Or maybe I’ll nudge Andy into crafting one of his amazing omelettes. I sit down at the computer to sip on coffee and decide. I see that Karel Barnoski has opened the day with a session of Sunday jams, ideal for a rainy day, so I put that on play and begin writing out this post.
When Mercury is in retrograde, when the day is getting darker and the rain shows no sign of letting up, and your husband switches on the lamp to see better, it’s time to simply pause and lean into the messy feelings of a Sunday morning.
