Posts Tagged ‘rainy day’

A Rainy Day in Tucson

      “Poetry is not the most important thing in life. I’d much rather lie in a hot bath reading Agatha  Christie and sucking sweets.” – Dylan Thomas

I was doing sky exercises with my watercolors, and came up with this one for a stormy day.

I was doing sky exercises with my watercolors, and came up with this one for a stormy day.

And It Captured too Much of my Attention 

It rained here in Tucson yesterday, a hard downpour that pretty much kept up a steady pace from early morning until mid-afternoon. I got drenched twice trying to walk dogs during pauses in the rain. But each time it began raining again before I could get back under a roof.

I  titled this one "After the Storm."

I titled this one “After the Storm.”

I’ve always loved rainstorms, but there seems to be something magical when rain falls in the desert. My neighbor said she watched the patterns of raindrops as they flowed on and off the leaves of the tree that shades her balcony for hours.

I also watched the rain — but only for a few minutes at a time. Even as an old broad, it’s hard for me to stay still doing nothing for long.

Instead, I found myself frequently glancing at the rain out the window that sits in front of my computer, while I tried to do a serious job of line-proofing my book, “Travels With Maggie.” It seemed like a good occupation for a rainy day.

Or maybe not.

I just reread some of what I had proofed yesterday, and found missed mistakes. Some days I don’t think there is an end in sight.

Blog pick of the day.

Blog pick of the day.

Bean Pat: Martha died 100 years ago this month.  http://tinyurl.com/pvoaxsk Who is Martha, you ask? Check out this blog and find out.


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Mount Pisgah -- Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.” __ Gilbert K. Chesterton.

 Travels With Maggie

 It’s raining, a steady pitter-patter on the metal roof of the RV carport that’s currently sheltering my RV. The world from. my window is tinted with dripping grayness, broadcasting a message for Maggie and I to enjoy the warm coziness inside our tiny home on wheels this morning.

 This travel writer actually enjoys such lazy days. They give me time to make traveling plans, which currently include sheltering from winter in Arkansas for a few more weeks, visiting Texas’ Gulf Coast, squeezing in some bird watching in the state’s Rio Grande Valley, and finally attending a grandson’s wedding in Dallas.

Mount Pisgah from Black Balsam Knob -- Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

 These activities should keep me busy until mid-March when Maggie and I begin our real travels for the year. First on our agenda map is to drive the Blue Ridge Parkway between Smokey Mountain and Shenandoah national parks. It’s been a trip long in the planning, and one of the scheduled stops is the Mount Pisgah Campground.

 I mention this because in response to a recent question (Jan. 13 blog) about special places, one reader said hers was North Carolina’s “ Mt. Pisgah, up high where the Rhododendrons grow.”

I did a bit more detailed research about the peak, and learned there’s a “moderately difficult,” 1.6-mile path to the summit from Milepost 407 of the parkway. I think these old broad legs can handle that, especially since reviews of the trail report that the view from the top “is spectacular.”

 Thinking about that landscape almost has me urging March to get here sooner. But I don’t. I know it’s better to continue putting my own color to the magical grayness outside – and to continue listening to the wondrous composition of pinging rain and Maggie’s contented snores as she slumbers on the couch.

Life is too precious to miss one present moment of it.

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Red-breasted nuthatch ... Wikipedia photo

“To feel keenly the poetry of a morning’s roses, one has to have just escaped from the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.” Henri Frederic Amiel.

Farragut State Park

My arrival at Farragut State Park, a former naval base where nearly 300,000 sailors were trained during World War II was greeted by rain, more rain and then bronchial sickness. For two weeks straight, neither the rain nor my cough let up. Here I was in the beautiful Idaho Panhandle, my RV sitting in the middle of a majestic Douglas Fir and Ponderosa Pine grove, and all I could do was stare out the window at it. I didn’t even have Internet which, by the way, is the reason my normal Monday and Friday blogs have been irregular lately.

Thank goodness I at least had birds to keep me company. The morning after my arrival, before I got sick, I had put out bird seed and a hummingbird feeder. It didn’t take my feathered friends long to find the resources. The robins and dark-eyed juncos, both ground feeders, arrived first. A Black-chinned hummingbird claimed the hanging nectar.  Then came the chickadees, both chestnut-backed and mountain species.  They dee-dee-deed for me as they flittered among the trees every time the rain let up for a little bit.

Mourning doves then showed up, as did western bluebirds and a tree-clinging red-breasted nuthatch that nimbly went up and down the trunk of the fir tree closest to my motor home. It was my favorite.

But today, the sun is out and my cough is gone. So if you’ll excuse me, after posting this blog from Ralph’s Cafe in Bayview that sits just outside the park, I’m going to go for a hike. The vulture of sickness has flown away.

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