It's been raining here for days. On and off the showers roll through, sometimes accompanied by lightning, sometimes by thunder. Occasionally there is sunlight in the tree tops as the greenish gray darkness of the storm lingers close to the Earth. It comes in small drizzles and in fierce downpours, flooding the streets and walkways.
To many this sort of thing is gloomy, depressing but not to me. The rain affords me time; to dance, to relax and to create. For some reason, spending time inside on a sunny day feels akin to the worst kind of sin to me. If I'm not pulling weeds, trimming hedges, tending crops or generally out and about, I feel like my day is being wasted - no matter how ludicrously hot or muggy it is. Hot and muggy means I don't pull my paints or oil pastels outside to work, even in the shade, I've had both melt on me in the past. And so, as I sip my coffee with a puppy at my feet and a kitty on my lap, I watch the rain bouncing off of robins' wings and roses' petals and I bring out my art journal and don't think. I let my fingers and heart lead, mind distracted by the pitter patters, purrs and warmth around me.
Outside, the rain gives life to the seedlings shooting up in the vegetable garden. And while it does that, it also gives life back to me. As the rain falls around me and on me, I enjoy each chilly drop. I twirl in the grass, barefoot with my skirt flying out; I toss my head back and I laugh. No worries, no cares. Just myself and the rain (and sometimes Luna, too.) Glorious greys and beautiful smokey blues paint the sky and I feel light and free. As the water soaks through my clothing and drips down my skin I feel connected, truly, to Earth and Sky. It is a moment of pure magic, the sort that is lost in the hustle and bustle and dull lifeless grey of a hurried world. The sort of magical moment we could all stand to recapture and savor.