This morning I woke up to grey skies after a glorious full month of sun. As I fell asleep last night a storm rumbled up and down the Sound, and I grinned every time the sky lit up. Lightning is so rare here, and I love it so much. I hate missing a single flash. Whenever there’s a storm I sit and watch, usually blinking or looking away just as the next flash happens, and when the show slows down I always think, “Just one more. I’ll watch for just one more.” Like peanuts. Always so hard to drag myself away.
Last night I dragged myself away by falling asleep, still hearing cracks and rumbles of thunder. And that lullaby must have lulled me so deeply asleep that I missed the rain, because the road is damp this morning. A sign of just how gorgeous it’s been that I wouldn’t mind some more. The plants are so dry I imagine them gulping in the damp and cooler air. I’m sure their toes would like just a little more water to sip.
The thing that hits me this morning is how silent it is. All of the giddy morning bird calls are missing. It’s so delicious in the middle of a hot summer to have a change in weather, to take a pause from that summer decadence, put on long pants, think of making something hot and cheesy in the oven, replace thoughts of an evening swim with the possibility of a movie. The birds maybe have their own version of this change in thoughts? Do birds sleep in? Do they enjoy the change too, and decide to just put themselves on mute for a morning?
I’ve got a great big order of canvases to finish up today so I’ll enjoy the grey, hunker down at my desk without the siren call of the sea pulling me and making me look for sparkles on the water. Those sparkles are the sign of a good swimming day. (Are there bad swimming days? Well yes, yes there are. Let’s not get carried away.)
But I’ll be looking forward to the return of the golden light.
Evenings swims. Writing in my journal under lacy leaves, sitting in a damp bathing suit and chased home by mosquitoes.
And until then I’ll just carry the sun inside of me, and keep an eye out for leaks.
HI, I love to hear your stories on Summer, as we are in the depth of winter here, I live vicariously through my northern hemisphere friends and enjoy there summer with them. A lovely post I could feel the soft wetness and the happiness of the cool damp plants after the heat. What an amazing outlook you have, I am amazed you get so much work done. Karen
Oh hi Karen! I didn’t know that was you until I saw your picture. Thanks so much! Hope you can fill me in with summer thoughts when we descend back into winter gloom. I feel like I have to fill up with summer to get through the winter. We’re back into summer weather now and I took a few days off and had some crazy good swims so am feeling blissful! I’m not getting painting time in but am hoping to get back to all of that in the fall. Miss it but when I get a chance find my head is way out of it and I get frustrated. Hoping to get in a day a week somehow in the fall. Take care and thanks for making my day.
Jennifer