Give us this day

  • Raced the sun­set home and it won. Darn! It was a beauty … no, strike that. It was Beauty, and I was hop­ing to fly in, throw the gro­ceries in appro­pri­ate places, grab the cam­era and cap­ture it. No such luck. Gone, gone, and no one would believe me if I tried to describe it.

    It’s been intensely, insuf­fer­ably hot and muggy for the end of June. Every­one agrees on this, and every­one tac­itly agrees that it’s unfair. We’re all pre­pared to live in a swel­ter­ing hot­house in late July and August, but those are weeks away, so this is a vio­la­tion of the Geneva Con­ven­tion of Appro­pri­ate Weather. And the corn and weeds and daylilies that had shot up in that aston­ish­ing way two weeks ago seemed to be sud­denly unsure of the whole grow­ing thing, as if they had been brash and were suf­fer­ing remorse.

    And then today … blessed thundershowers.

    Thun­der to wake you up, rain to put you back to sleep. Pound, then pelt, then pat­ter, then pound again. All day. Enough rain that Clemen­tine, who is the biggest sissy-dog in the world, would only go out to do her busi­ness in quick runs and would do a smart about-face for the door before she was even quite fin­ished. Enough rain, for sure, that all green things out­side are revving their engines for the first ray of sun tomor­row. And enough that when it had all finally moved on through late this after­noon, we got won­der­ful cathe­drals of clouds and light and mist that slowly, slowly curled and changed and seemed to breathe.

    I couldn’t stand to leave it com­pletely just because I had missed my appoint­ment with the sun­set, so I snapped the leash on Clemen­tine for the very rare, very short almost-dark walk, which just goes up and down the street and isn’t hardly worth it. But Clemen­tine took the oppor­tu­nity to catch up on today’s smells, and as we walked past one open lot, she was faintly dis­ap­prov­ing of me for stop­ping so long to watch fire­flies light on and off.

    What a world.


    Related posts:

    1. Sunny. Light clouds. Grumpy farm­ers expected.
    2. Pascha on the porch

    June 30th, 2005 | Grace | 4 Comments |

4 Responses and Counting...

  • steven paul 06.30.2005

    I’m jeal­ous… of the rain. I LOVE thun­der­storms. Unfor­tu­nately I have 114 and 2% humid­ity and dew point of 23 below zero lately.
    We have enough spec­tac­u­lar sun­sets to keep me with a dig­i­tal cam­era in my truck. I might post a cou­ple on my blog.

  • Grace

    Well, there’s always some­thing to love and some­thing to hate about your weather. The thun­der­storms are very cool (30% chance tomor­row), but I could live with­out the humid­ity (42% today) and the tor­nado threats (0% right now, thank good­ness, but in August and Sep­tem­ber, we’ll all watch our backs).

    I had to go remind myself where you live. I have fam­ily out in Nevada, so I can envi­sion a lit­tle of the way it is. I’d like to bor­row just a lit­tle of that kind of sear­ing heat you get … but just a lit­tle. Not so much that any­time your car has been sit­ting out for more than 20 min­utes you have to spend five min­utes wait­ing out­side with all the doors open and the AC blast­ing to get it under 350 degrees inside.

  • steven paul

    LOL! yeah…I told my wife yes­ter­day I’ll save her some time and cook din­ner in my truck while at work. Spice up the roast and I’ll just leave it on my front seat all day and bring hot din­ner with me when I get home.

  • Grace

    There’s some innovation!

Leave a Reply

* Name, Email, and Comment are Required