“Rain Rain Go Away
Come Again An-other Day”
The son was plucking away at the notes on the keyboard. I recognized the nursery rhyme and said, Let’s sing it as :
“Rain Rain Come Again
We have had none To-day”
He gave me a quizzical look, and started laughing. “Is this your words have meaning thing-y?”
“Well…yes! I mean everyday the forecast starts out as 100% rain, and then by the time the day rolls over, it is down 80% and then 40%, and then a tiny squirt like the clouds are having unitary tract issues. “ I said.
Once their guffaws subsided, I sang along
“Rain Rain Come Ag-ain
We have had none To-day”.
I pondered about the garden-beds knowing that they should be bursting forth with clovers right about now, and the daughter would tell me not go about removing them, as they are so pretty. I mock-sigh, but enjoy this exchange every year all the same. I love the clovers too. The three-headed beauties remind me of the resilience of life, and the sweet and sour nature of life itself. When all the world is waiting for a spring, the snowdrops and clovers are the only ones brave enough to poke their head out and take into that leap of life.
I am so glad to say that the first proper rains of the season descended on us this week. The sounds of the rain provided a beautiful back-drop as we went about our days. At nights, I relished the sounds of the gentle pattering rain, and the smooth whishing of the trees in the backyard.
How beautiful gentle-ness is and how different from the gale-force winds that had ripped branches off a few days earlier?
I took a proper walk relishing the solitude of the fresh Earth two days after the heavy rains yesterday. Clouds were everywhere and there is nothing at all that nudges the philosopher awake like clouds and the smells of clean Earth. Thousands of seeds seem to have taken the leap of faith with the waters that descended over them in the past week, and the hills were green with possibilities. The poignancy of the writing in the book, Lab Girl, By Hope Jahren, nudged me. I stood there, admiring the fresh shoots, and relishing what she wrote:
“Each beginning is the end of a waiting. We are each given exactly one chance to be. Each of us is both impossible and inevitable. Every replete tree was first a seed that waited.” – Hope Jahren, Lab Girl
The possibilities of beginning and waiting play out endlessly in our lives. Sometimes, it is with the need for action, the time to spurt forth. At others, it is in the waiting. The time for things to play out so we can gain clarity. For those of us who favor action, the waiting of the seed is an important lesson. At others, the spurting of life itself is the nudge to take the leap of faith.
I came back with that look of contentment that the family recognized: there was no denying it, I had photographs to show them, and though I recognized the medium could hardly capture the magnificence of Being There, I still reveled in showing them pictures of all the wonders I had seen.
Sometimes, nature astounds me with variety: In one day out with nature I saw hawks, wildcats, squirrels, turkeys, deer, herons, grebes, fresh shoots of all sort of flora and fauna, not to mention the play of the light through the clouds at sunset. A friend of mine feels that animals cross our paths to send us a message. I think the menagerie I encountered was trying to send me the message that life is beautiful, if we take the time to live it fully, creatively and wholly.
Some of the books in January had already set the message :
- A Walk in the Woods – Bill Bryson
- The River Bank and other stories from the Wind in the Willows – Graham Greene
- Friends at Thrush Green – Miss Read
- The Girl Who Drank the Moon – By Kelly Barnhill
- The Water Princess – Susan Verde (Childhood experience of Georgie Badiel)
- Emily Writes – Emily Dickinson and her Poetic Beginnings – Jane Yolen, Christine Davanier
That evening, the son plucked at the notes for Clouds on his keyboard, and the clouds flitted above:
“See the Clouds, in the sky
Wonder how they, Fly so high!“