I awoke today to raindrops plunking on the metal roof of my house. Too sporadic to be steady, just a gentle sound of the hope of goods things to come. Lord knows we need rain–buckets and buckets of river and reservoir filling buckets of it. This is not one of those kinds of rains, but it is welcomed all the same. This kind of rain, to the ears of someone who lives in the hills outside of Santa Cruz, produces no anxious thoughts of fallen trees or blocked waterways. Just dripping colored leaves and yet another reason to read.
A walk yesterday along the ocean gave hints of the weather change, confirmed in conversation later with a friend.
The sky and clouds were washed in dull blues and grays, the thin horizon line holding a hint of sunlight. It was perfect walking weather. I spent my time enjoying the clouds and sending up good thoughts and prayers for family and friends struggling with challenges to health and heart. Such a long list of suffering, giving me so many opportunities to remember my dear ones. Sometimes it is the one thing we can do: keep up the knocking. Still here, remember?
A bonus of a dull sky above can be deep rich colors below. I found vivid greens as I walked along the cliffs, ocean slime and ice plant. It was beautiful and I added prayers of thanksgiving to my loud knocking.