Last week ended with a Sunday that was just the sort of day you would want to have every day. The temperature was just right, the wind was just right, the waves were just right, and the day moved along like a train moving into a station. Evelyn made a fruit drink that was the best she has made, and the food tasted like it had been prepared just for me. This was a day that I felt I had to do nothing but just enjoy what came. That night I went to bed and slept. That is unusual for me because I like to read and play chess and fall asleep when I am not able to think of the next move.
That night I slept.
As if to offset the previous day, Monday was a do nothing day. It rained during the night, and rained almost all of the day; some times heavy and most of the time a light fine drizzle, the sort of rain that soaks you through. But this rain was warm, and felt comforting as it fell onto my face, standing next to the pool watching the drizzle blur the surface of the water. There were no rings pulsing out from the drops as you would see with heavy rain, just a blur.
The dogs lay out in the warm drizzle, and a fine layer of dew formed on their coats until they got up and shook themselves and the process started over again. By the gate, there were leaf cuttings, ants loaded with their bounty heading for their nest, humming birds drinking from the flowers. But there was a muted silence, no kids crying, no hawkers shouting, no traffic. The day seemed to be in sympathy with the weather on the east coast of the US.
|Fine rain coating the street|