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I went downstairs yesterday afternoon, to get a bit of fresh air and visit the ducks, just because. I stopped to fiddle with the garden, trying to prop the crocuses up against the wind (this works better than it sounds, though not as well as I'd like). Just as I finished, it started to rain.
Ah, well. I turned my collar up, and walked into the park anyway, as the people who'd been there for hours, since the sunny morning, streamed out. A few were staying--a game of catch over here, three kids using the homemade bicycle jumping track there.
The sky was all light gray, the air warm, and I could smell the rain. A spring rain, by that simple fact.
Walking along, I realized that what I needed was a place to sit, so I could feel the rain, and listen to it on the winter's fallen oak leaves. I climbed onto an old fallen tree trunk and watched the rain, and the pale gray sky, and listened for a while, then went up into the hills.
The sound of the rain, the early Spring buds, the way the bare branches stand out against the sky, an almost-black gray against an almost-white one.
I turned back when I noticed that my ears were cold. Next time, I'll take a hat. Next time, it'll be greener, and the sounds will be different. Next time, maybe Andy will be home to walk with me.
What color is the sky on my planet? For an hour yesterday, it was patterns of dark and pearl gray, with a yellow wash at the eastern horizon.
Ah, well. I turned my collar up, and walked into the park anyway, as the people who'd been there for hours, since the sunny morning, streamed out. A few were staying--a game of catch over here, three kids using the homemade bicycle jumping track there.
The sky was all light gray, the air warm, and I could smell the rain. A spring rain, by that simple fact.
Walking along, I realized that what I needed was a place to sit, so I could feel the rain, and listen to it on the winter's fallen oak leaves. I climbed onto an old fallen tree trunk and watched the rain, and the pale gray sky, and listened for a while, then went up into the hills.
The sound of the rain, the early Spring buds, the way the bare branches stand out against the sky, an almost-black gray against an almost-white one.
I turned back when I noticed that my ears were cold. Next time, I'll take a hat. Next time, it'll be greener, and the sounds will be different. Next time, maybe Andy will be home to walk with me.
What color is the sky on my planet? For an hour yesterday, it was patterns of dark and pearl gray, with a yellow wash at the eastern horizon.