Archives for posts with tag: petrichor

Sipping coffee and thinking about time, timing, and the peculiar fascination, and sometimes urgency, that we have with getting to a goal “ahead of schedule” or “on time” – turning any such moment into some kind of race to some arbitrary finish line. Doesn’t it suck the fun out of a drive in the countryside, if we’re so focused on getting to a destination by a specific point in time? We’ve put our experience in the hands of circumstances. Slow drivers. Detours. Traffic. (Metaphors.)

Yesterday, my morning was less about time and timing, than about enjoying a few minutes for myself, before I headed to work. I left the house at some wildly random time, rather later than I generally do, arriving a bit later than I ordinarily might, still well within expectations of timeliness, and utterly without any internal pressure to get there. No racing. No rushing. It was lovely. Sipping my coffee, I think about doing that more often. 🙂

Rain drops on roses.

In the garden, in the evening, after the work day was behind me, I took an unhurried look around. No agenda. Just enjoying the moment. I had enjoyed some pleasant moments of conversation with my Traveling Partner on the phone. The evening was a simple one; I did some tidying up. I had a bite of dinner. I relaxed with a book. I went to bed a bit later than the night before, early enough to get a great night’s sleep… if my body would have been amendable to that. lol My interrupted sleep has not prevented me having a lovely morning, and I feel decently well-rested. No harm done. 🙂

Life feels simple and mostly pretty easy, from the perspective of this morning. No idea what the day holds; it’s been a busy week at work, and a great many people, colleagues, and customers, seem to have strange priorities much more to do with external forces that drive them, than well-considered choices they have made for themselves. I grin to myself in the early morning light; not my circus, not my monkeys. I keep my focus on my own life, my own choices, and being the woman I most want to be – more so, each day. It’s the best I can do, I think. 🙂

Sufficiency is pretty comfortable, generally.

A soft rain is falling, this morning. I finish my coffee, and begin again. 🙂

I don’t think I actually ever gave thought to how often, or how much, “suction” place a role with regard to the general state of a human mouth. lol Having a molar extracted, and the resulting perforation of my lower facial sinus, with all the requested after-care that follows, is definitely an education in maintaining mindful awareness. The balance between “aware” and “self-conscious” – the latter of which tends to cause more moments of “sucking on my teeth, in some fashion – is, itself, a very new thing to explore (all over again). It generally… um… sucks.

(I’m aware of how dreadful that pun was, and nonetheless I spend five minutes wracked with mirth, trying not to laugh literally out loud, nor to stifle my laughter in any way that might result in disturbing the healing of that tooth socket, with the realization that my situation literally illustrates the point I was making the first place driving still further laughter. What a morning. What the fuck is the point of “uncomfortable merriment”? Why is that even a thing? lol)

Eating is complicated. Drinking is a major challenge. Even sitting around, generally, reading, watching a video, or just being thoughtful, seems to continuously put me at risk of subtly (or less so) “pulling” at that wound in my mouth with some quantity of suction unintentionally. “Rinsing” my mouth requires a rather delicate approach, since any sort of “swishing” technique likely involves – you guessed it already, I bet – suction. It’s not the very firm sucking-suction of deliberately sucking on something (like a straw) that trips me up; it’s the common everyday rather mild suction of things like holding my tongue to the roof of my mouth, or drinking from a container with a small opening, or… swallowing. lol That last one plagues me – it is unavoidable. I’m not bitching, I’m just saying; there are techniques involved that I did not already know.

I woke to rain. I find myself wondering how the Praying Mantis hatchlings are doing. They hatched yesterday, from purchased egg cases that I put in the garden in the spring.

There appear to be hundreds of wee mantises on this one rose bush, basking in the sunshine.

The dense foliage of the reliably well-leaved out rose bush on which I placed them offers a lot of places to hide safely, and with my container garden being very near a forested green space, and birds coming and going at the deck feeder every day, there is plenty of food for the young mantises – and plenty of predators to be concerned with. I spotted them fairly quickly, when I went out to water the garden.

I watched them for awhile.

I watched several quite skillfully avoid a largish, probably quite frustrated, garden spider who had also taken up housekeeping in the rose bush. I was feeling certain that sooner or later, the spider would have her meal, when a young mantis turned the tables on the predator-prey narrative, and began to enjoy her first meal – of spider. Wow, Nature, way to present a life lesson!

I watch awhile longer. Choices. Verbs. Sunshine. Moments.

I felt huge peering down at the wee creatures in my garden. Some of them stared seemingly fearlessly, curiously, back at me. I felt a tickle on my arm, and notice that one, then several more, have jump from the bush to my arm, and my hand, as I held my camera outstretched for a closer shot. I use the opportunity to give them an easy ride, slowly, around the garden. It delighted me to see each jump off to a new location in a hanging basket, potted salad greens, a bucket full of blooming flowers, or another rose. I remind them to watch out for spiders, before I go back inside.

I woke this morning to rain. It only makes sense to wonder how the little new comers are doing. Coffee first, I decided, and here I am – with a drink bottle (selected specifically for the size of the mouth of the bottle) partially filled with cool-not-icy-cold coffee, listening to the rain and the sound of my fingers on the keyboard. I give some thought to where I might take my walk today; it’s the weekend, and I’ve been enjoying being out on the trail again, rain need not slow me down (it’s not rainy hard, just sort of dripping gently). Muddy or slick trails would be less than ideal… maybe along the waterfront? The well-paved trails are popular, so it’s not likely to have the same “away from it all” feel as I might experience on a wilderness trail, or even a suburban forest trail miles in, further along than an easy walk with a child would take one – still a lovely walk, worth taking. The city is reliably a beautiful and varied view.

Some other rainy morning, along the waterfront, and a view of a city I love.

…I keep coming back to this not-excessively-painful-but-definitely-wholly-uncomfortable-and-quite-inconveniently-tender-complicated-to-care-for wound in my mouth; it distracts me. I also find my thoughts returning to the wee newcomers in my garden. I can’t do much about the extracted tooth; the jaw and gum need time and care to heal. I can, however, satisfying my curiosity about the mantises – verbs are required. A moment of action is all that is necessary…

The smell of freshness, summer rain, and petrichor fill my senses when I step out onto the deck. The sound of rain on the big leaf maples is musical. It isn’t raining hard; just a steady misty drizzle, barely hard enough to be explicitly rain. I check “Baby Love”, the rose on which the mantis young found themselves on their very first day, eagerly seeking signs that “the kids are alright”…

Petals have fallen in the rain, but the wee mantis young take the rainy day in stride.

I spot first one, then another, then several, then, as my eye begins to calibrate to their shape and color, their plentiful numbers are revealed. Most have simply stepped around to a convenient underside of a leaf, or even the narrow protection of a stem. A few just stand out in the rain, damp, seeming unconcerned.

They are everywhere I look. A good metaphor for so many things I sometimes struggle to see that are “right in front of me”. 🙂

A few minutes of writing, some coffee, a rainy morning… I’ve been most particularly tempted by this deliciously rainy summer morning… I think I’ll begin again. 🙂

In the garden, or on the trail, it’s a lovely time to embrace this “now” moment. (Your results may vary; there are verbs involved.)

It was evening. I was home. There wasn’t much going on. As I recall, we’d already had dinner, and were just hanging out when I caught the first flash out of the corner of my eye (I exclaimed “lightning!” rather exuberantly, and also rudely interrupting my Traveling Partner with my unexpected enthusiasm). Dramatic clouds that had darkened the skies during the commute home, finally became something of note; a thunderstorm. Uncommon here. Enough so that we put further conversation on hold, and I opened the patio door and stood in the electrified breeze, listening to the thunder crashing in the distance, watching for the flashes of lightening. The air tasted fresh and inspiring. I felt homesick for the childhood innocence of being excited to see lightening, to hear thunder; I let myself have the moment.

Thunderstorms were quite common where I grew up. I thought of then. I thought of now. It felt like a choice send off for my Mom. We used to enjoy the thunderstorms together; my bouncing excitement, her feigned gruffness masking her own. She would make a point of stopping me from rushing out into the yard, cautioning me about lightning strikes. Last night, my Traveling Partner was her “stand in” when I jumped to my feet excitedly exclaiming that I was going to “go out in it!” to stand on the deck and feel the wind wrap around me. “Out on the deck? Why not just open the curtains, and open up the door?” We enjoyed the storm together, while it lasted. Storms pass.

After the storm, a hurried shot taken while the rain fell. I got the focus wrong, but… this is sort of common with me, generally. 😉

A couple more work shifts, then the weekend. I sip my coffee and smile, recalling the text from my sister, yesterday evening, asking me if I would like to have Mom’s favorite cup and saucer…? My smile becomes a grin; it was that particular type of floral pattern, that got me interested in porcelain tea cups and saucers, so many years ago. I have a lovely collection of them now, gathered over years, and miles, of lifetime. I eagerly accepted, and later stood in the doorway, listening to the thunder, thinking of my Mom, and of “having a coffee with her”, anytime, always, by enjoying mine in her favored cup. Still smiling, I notice the aphorism on my weighty, serviceable, ceramic mug this morning; life is good. Yes, yes it is…

…If nothing else, it’s better than the alternative (at least as far as I can know). 🙂

I woke this morning to a cool gray sky threatening rain. It’s probably an empty threat. I woke feeling okay, but within minutes I was feeling cross with the world, with humanity itself, and disappointed in the world and my fellow human kind most particularly. Seriously? We can’t do better for measures of success than revenue and gross margin? We can’t elevate ourselves as a specie beyond profiting on the suffering of others? Yeah. I didn’t actually mean to open up a news site first thing, and I’m definitely regretting it.  It wasn’t even ‘serious’ news, although to be honest I find that news information from sources like The Daily Show and Last Week Tonight regrettably often seem a higher caliber of reporting these days…and Last Week Tonight told me why, this morning.

How about it, humanity, how many more things can we ruin by chasing profit at the expense of substance, meaning, and value? We have so much potential…

Anyway. I’m not exactly angry about it… just disappointed. Disappointed first that I looked at the fucking news – any fucking news – first thing in the morning. I know better than to do that to my fragile waking consciousness. Then too, I am disappointed that as human beings we still hold up “making money” as some laudable skill, and “wealth” as a great goal for an adult life… and I am frustrated at how difficult it is to explain why it seems obvious this is a fairly stupid approach, generally. There is so little worth having that is “about” money.

I’m shouting into the wind. We all want things or experiences that “cost money”, making the money valuable to have. We’re constantly told “the market” sets the price of goods and services based on wholesome supply and demand. We ignore how badly wrong the math is because we like the way our ideas sound, and cave to pressure when we’re told that wages are also set by some mythic “market” and that our value is only as much as the job itself is “worth”, rather than being paid for the value of our expended life force (which is probably a whole lot less variable, frankly, since we are all human beings). Ah, but if I bitch when my bank account is fat, and I’m making a good wage, I’m told that it’s easy for me to say so, but…  And if I bitch when I’m broke, why, that’s sour grapes and I should do more, work harder, and surely I will profit. Seriously, people? It’s like I’m shouting at monkeys – the noise is audible, but it is unlikely I’m actually being understood. It is what it is, I guess… what a depressingly pointless human legacy. Fail sauce, fancy monkeys, fail sauce – keep your fingers poised over those typewriters, perhaps you’ll write a novel yet.

...Raindrops on roses...

…Raindrops on roses…

Sorry. As I said. I’m cross with disappointment in my fellow-man, this morning, and it’s my own doing. This too shall pass. I hear a soft rain falling, and open the window to smell the petrichor of meadow and marsh. I put on some music after a while. Humanity hasn’t changed much overnight, and changing my perspective will be the easier choice, instead of clinging to hope that my few aggravated words will sway even one human being as they choose the course of their life. We are each having our own experience. Looking past money’s magic funhouse mirror is too hard for most of us; we need stuff.

The music carries my heart to a different place as fast as a Mclaren F1 on a straight ribbon of highway. The beat pulls my sense of self out of my head, more firmly into my body, into this moment. Music becomes movement… becomes a bass guitar hanging from my body, and practice, and nothing at all to do with disappointment or aggravation. Am I slowly beginning to work out some of the challenges, incrementally, over time? Maybe…? I’ll keep practicing. Today is a good day for practicing the practices that tend most to improve my experience. 😀

I slept deeply through the night, evening sleeping in far later than is typical for me. I woke to that light-hearted chiming of the ‘don’t forget to take your meds’ alarm that goes off ‘well past when I am likely to be awake’. 🙂 I woke to tangled hair that sticks up in the most ludicrous way – on just one side – and the scent of rain on the breezes. It rained last night – it didn’t just rain, the thunderstorm woke me around 2:30 am, but not with nearby thunder – it was too distant for that. I didn’t wake to flashes of bright white-hot lightening scorching the sky for an instant. I didn’t wake to the sounds of other humans waking to the storm. I woke to the music.

I generally don’t associate music – melodic sounds of hang drum, particularly – with rain storms. I do love the sounds and scents of rain, but it is easy enough to hear that they are their own thing, and not to be confused with some other sounds, particularly melodies on metal. I woke because I could hear the sound of actual music…very like the sounds of hang drum. Even after waking, the lovely melody was audible – and amateur. This was no professional playing something recognizable, or structured – it was improvised, and a little random, although sweet and charming, like someone trying something new. I got up to discover the source of the music…had I perhaps left the stereo on very quietly, and some long forgotten recording of a friend or stranger turned up on a playlist, finally waking me? In the living room, I could hear the rain more clearly, and through the patio door I could see it coming down, and see the occasional flash of distant lightning. I could still hear the music – I scanned the lawn and pool area half expecting to see that some festival had crept near, and to realize I was not actually awake at all, but only dreaming. I could still hear the music…as I turned I realized…I recognized the source. I was indeed listening to melodic percussion on metal; the storm driving raindrops onto the metal cover over the chimney pipe, and the one above the vent from the bathroom fan, too – how is it that I hear this here, and never before, in other places, I wonder?

I open the patio door the let the apartment fill with the scent of rain freshened air, and take a seat on love seat to hear more of this unexpected concert, enjoying the whimsy and unexpected delight of having an apartment that plays its own music for me when it rains. The world is quiet for a time, no audible traffic, and only the sound of breezes, and built-in “rain drum”, melodic and wonderful, keeping time in the wee hours. Shortly afterward, the rain slowed, and the music stopped. I returned to bed, and to sleep, to dream of love and lovers.

I woke slowly much later, uncertain that I wanted to be awake at all…unsure why I was seemingly so committed to sleeping in, then remembering the late night ahead…torn between sleeping and waking, I linger too long on the wondering about it, and found myself decided by default; I am awake. That’s okay. Coffee sounds good, by this point, and I am already wondering if I might have heard from my traveling partner…

After the rain, the morning breeze carries the scent of roses to me while I write.

“Kiss n Tell” blooming, coffee on the patio, and thoughts of love… I enjoy the moment.

Today is a good day to enjoy unexpected delights in an accepting way, and be reminded that this fleeting lifetime is filled with wonders. It’s up to me to choose to enjoy them, more often than I choose to be annoyed by something else. 🙂