The rain is raining all around.

The storm broke about 6:30 and my new lawn company still won’t be able to calm my jungle, but I’m not complaining.  A cool breeze pushes through the screen, stirring the staleness, letting me draw a deep breathe of cleansing air.  I love the rain, though my dog finds the lightening somewhat terrifying and my basement will no doubt take a soaking.

In an hour or so, I will return to the office after a day of working at home.  I got three loads of laundry nearly done, several pleadings drafted, and an attitude adjustment.  The fatigue and soreness of my muscles has abated.  I might make it through the week; a chance still exists.  As the deluge descends on Brookside, my mood lightens. Perhaps the barometric pressure has eased with the unleashing of the fury from the heavens.  I can’t say.  But I feel better, and I’ll take that without question.

It’s the eleventh day of the twenty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Spring rains surround me.  Life continues.

“The Rain Poem”, by Robert Louis Stevenson

The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.

0511160723

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *