You know how when you’re supposed to have a thunderstorm this afternoon and tonight and you watch morning-black thunderheads float by like one of Heinlein’s adult Martians and everything feels tight in its skin about to bust right out if you don’t get some kind of sign from the sky your head burns waiting and you want to eat hot curry to tamp the burn but you’re in the forest and clouds keep piling up and there’s a feeling in the air the sky ionized so strongly it could iron your father’s white cotton shirts in 3 seconds flat if only it would let loose so you start praying to whatever god is handy the god of Wednesday the god of Tuesday Weld the god of Narnia the god of bad art the god of unread books the god of hospital cafeteria smells the god of loose change the god of one hour martinizing and of course Beethoven that the whole mess would just pop but it doesn't it’s a balloon in your stomach it’s full of helium and it keeps filling with helium and there’s a lot of space on account of you had one strawberry for breakfast and it’s filling quick but none of it does any good because the damned sky won’t open and everything and everyone is waiting?
posted by Radish King at 7:13 AM
6 Comments:
Yes. Yes I do. This time of year every day I do. "Come on," I beg. "Please just COME ON!"
And what sweetness when it does.
Yes! I am not used to mugginess out here on the island though every day smells like Christmas.
I do know. Begging for rain. So perfectly said.
Hope by now the storm has happened. The rain here seems endless. Hope you manage more than one strawberry. Love to you.
Xoxo
Barbara
Dear R, I hope you got enough rain to raise up the flowers from their beds.
xoxoxoxox
Barbara, it has merely drizzled not even that. It mists. Which is typical. Still my garden thrives. I am so happy for it and for me because I thrive here too even when I don't. xoxoxo
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