Surrounded by rain today. I'm grateful for the vividness of color that surrounds me, staving off the otherwise blue-ish gray mood that ever threatens - or at least keeping it at bay. But it's not the rain's fault. I love the rain. It's just sometimes we feel the tang of sadness or melancholy. Whether or not the weather is bright or dim. This is one of those days. The trees are dressed in their finest array today, dancing in the wind. Showing off a bit. Honestly, they are trying to coax a giggle. And may yet succeed.
There is a sweetness in the dreamy mist of melancholy. Perhaps all writers or artists need to reside there from time to time. To watch the rain, walk aimless on a stormy beach.
Whatever the reason, my Granna would say to enjoy the wallow. To dwell there. To feel it completely and then burn clean. And while I'm there, go ahead and do something useful like the laundry or scrub the kitchen floor. (Ever practical, my Granna) So I am proud to say that while I write I hear the drum and thrum of the dryer tossing the clothes willy-nilly.
That tiny, fierce woman is always with me.