After The Rain

Yesterday, when the rain stopped battering my house, I stepped outside to see the positive results. With me I carried the small Panasonic sent by a loving friend. It is tiny and light: a point and shoot of surprising sensitivity. With the rain still clinging to everything, I felt the desire  to record the fleeting moment. The sun was already out, and calling attention to the minute drops on naked twigs – suspended at the tips of pine needles – highlighting the sleek wet sheen on leaf and the glisten on petal. It wouldn’t last long: this promise of refreshment and renewal. The dull dry look of winter would return. But I could forget for a while, as I moved down the path that leads to my house. Dog-free for the moment, peering closely at the shaggy growth along the edge, my hopes were high. 

For weeks the world has looked tired to me. A late winter cold has had me in its clutches: thoroughly invading my system, producing symptoms that wracked my already weary body, infecting my sinuses, irritating my bronchials with an endless supply of mucus. The heat and chill of fever was with me for a  few days. What remains is a deep and demanding cough, wheezing breaths, and a total lack of stamina.  My doctor has prescribed a hookah-like affair with a small, efficient generator to back it up. I sit for fifteen minutes – mouthpiece between my lips – and breathe the medicated steam that plumes before my face. My eyes glaze over and I fall gratefully into the peace of contemplation. Emerging, the cough comes easily for a while. Laboring passages relax and the air flows freely.

On the path – immersed in the rain-wet morning – I flowed freely through my up-close observation of the shimmering plants. I looked from the startling beauty to the tiny window. Translation seemed impossible, but  rapt absorption was a powerful prayer. My  surprising pleasure in this process must leave a remnant of beauty in the memory of the camera.

Back inside, my body served me long enough to download what was received. And there was enough to surprise and please the eye – bring a glow to my tired mind, my hungry heart. I moved from image to image, gently discerning which ones might be posted to convey my experience. I was on the path again, echoing my recent partaking. I was happy as a child is happy in its time of play, and like a child I resisted the end of play and my need for rest. Yet the body reminded me – with a fit of coughing – to leave some play for another day.

So today I return to revisit the sweetness of yesterday, when my mind stirred hopefully with creative promise. I remind myself – by following the path again – that opening is still a possibility. I may believe in my internal spring while winter lingers.


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