Rainy Days and Fridays

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Over at David Kanigan’s blog, he shares an excerpt from an article by Frank Bruni, “A Personal Summery Note” (NY Times, July 27, 2023).

Bruni invited others to send him their stories of summer’s they remember.

Bruni also inspired me to remember summer’s past in my response to DK’s post. My memories are tinged however with the current reality of wildfires raging and Mother Earth pleading with humankind to do something different to prevent the destruction of our planet.

Sigh. I think my mind is soaked with dread or… perhaps I just need to quit reading and listening to the news. Good think we no longer have a TV in our home. It could be worse!

It’s already a welcome kind of grey sky day here so I thought I’d dampen it some more with what I wrote along with a photo of Sir Beaumont of Sheepadoodle who looks equally as woebegone!

Thoughts of summer days burned deep into my cellular memories scuttle away from the starkness of current reality where 1,000 wildfires rage across the country. Of flash floods dragging lives into their undertow. Of children crying for lost pets and homes drowning beneath Mother Nature’s twistied winds and scorching heat.

Once upon a time, summer was full of carefree thoughts and endless days spent lazing between pool and lounge chair. Melting ice cream dripping down the sides of a sugar cone onto hot, but not too hot concrete. Of sitting in the car while the gods bowled in the skies above, because somewhere in my child’s mind, I beleived the car was the safest place to be when lightning strikes.

I don’t remember lightning igniting forests across the land. I don’t remember broadcasters droning on about warming seas and melting permafrast or storms that ignited forests,

In these modern climes lightening strikes carry fear-laden clouds of dread devestating boreal forests beneath their wrathful strikes. News feeds roll on and on with stories of tragedies falling upon strangers lives like the one about an elderly woman in Phoenix tipping over in her wheel chair onto too hot concrete that seared her skin to the third degree.

I yearn for those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer where the northern hemisphere seemed to slip easily into slow gear with the arrival of the Summer Solstice. Under a Solstice moon gravity cradled me in comforting thoughts of Planet Earth held steadfast in its orbit around the sun burning away lingering memories of winter’s harsh winds blasting.

I am lazing in bed today. it’s a misty, drizzly kind of morning and yesterday, because I chose to wear shoes I know don’t work well with my feet, my right foot is a tad (very) sore today. My own doing. But… along with the grey skies, it makes for a good excuse to R&R for a bit and ignore the list of chores I had planned to do.

Ahhh…. those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.

Namaste

PS. I do highly recommend hopping on over to David’s place. It’s an enchanting read today

13 thoughts on “Rainy Days and Fridays”

  2. Louise, dearest, I didn’t want to go ‘there’, where you went, but I get you…. every day I am working hard on myself to feel joy, happiness. To feel thankfulness and be mindful, because we really have it so good here in Switzerland. And it’s true, we are über-lucky, we have heat, rain storms, thunderstorms., sunny hot and gumid days, but thanks to the rain we also have water and lack not anything.
    In a way I’m glad to read that even wonderfully positive and profound ppl like you have ‘their moments’, because some days I find it difficult to ‘build up’ others. Right now I mourn my 100yr old auntie who died 3 wks ago and a very special friend who died within days at not even 62yrs old. But luckily, I’ve decided to be a happy human being and when I fall, I get up, righten my crown and continue with a smile. And hence have happy summers where I live my modest life outside on the patio. Looking out for small and great moments – like at lunch today I saw the flutter if a really big butterfly 🦋- sadly it didn’t sit down so that I could admire it, but still, it gave me a burst of happiness.
    Hugs to you

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    • Hello dear Kiki, I hear you – about not wanting to go there. Sometimes, I go there to write it out to come back to equilibrium. I have a friend who for years spends 10 minutes crying for the world — there is so much in this world I cannot change or heal and yet so much that sits heavy on my heart. So… she cries for 10 minutes every morning so that she can then, as you say so beautifully, look out for small and great moments to experience those bursts of happiness.

      I am sorry for the loss of your 100 yr old auntie! What a life. What amazing stories she must have had. And for your special friend. It is in those moments I always remember, Love is all we can carry with us when we leave this world, and Love is all we can leave behind.

      Many blessings, mucho hugs and much love to you dear Kiki. ❤

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  3. I didn’t see your response on David’s blog. However, I feel you here, Louise.
    I just had that memory of lying our towels on the hot pavement of the driveway and watch the squiggles of heat rise… back when we didn’t have to worry about burning to a crisp (what was sunscreen? Never needed it then…)

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