Rain, rain

The day lilies and Hazel’s irises had just begun to assert themselves through the ground on Friday.  My trips to and from the car have all been in the dark since then.  In a short while, I will take a cup of tea out onto the deck and look over the railing to see how the rain has nourished the remnants of my garden.  I hope my plants have grown and that in a week or so, my yard will hold the promise of their gorgeous blooms.

The piles of clutter from the week’s rushed activities have shrunk by five or ten percent.  My daily stretching has steadied at 16 minutes, morning and night.  Fifteen would suffice, but I add the extra minute to compensate for pauses.  My body aches, my host of viruses rages, but I’m not complaining.  Yesterday I donned a black flowered dress and a pink sweater to sit helpless in the congregation of a packed church to show solidarity with grieving parents.  Tomorrow I hope to be the instrument of stability for a six-year-old whose life-long home would be changed if one party to a sad litigation has his way.

How can I lament anything in my life, when others face such tragedy?

It’s the thirteenth day of the twenty-seventh month of My Year Without Complaining.  On this day in 1942, the U. S. Army launched the K-9 Corps;  in 1781, William Herschel discovered Uranus; in 1865, the Conferacy approved the use of black soldiers; and in 1951, Dennis Ray Lisenby came into the world, in order that one day his mother’s irises would adorn my yard.

Happy birthday, Dennis; and thank you.

Life continues.

0310161713

 

One thought on “Rain, rain

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.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