| Drip, Drip, Drip |
[Jun. 8th, 2005|04:19 am]
rejectomorph
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It was a dark and stormy night.... Well, it was! Not a blustery storm, but stormy nonetheless, and the absence of the moon rendered the weepy clouds invisible. Rain began about midnight, and has fallen steadily since. A single cricket, inhabiting the flower bed that is protected from the rain by the broad eaves adjacent to the porch, has continued to chirp, its springtime insect instincts undampened. But I, bemused by the unaccustomed June precipitation, have been subject to frequent bouts of woolgathering, as the soft pattering seduces me from the attentive state which the cold air spilling through my open window would normally produce. Oh, shameless weather!
The scent of jasmine has of course been suppressed, but I have for several minutes now been brought the fine fragrance of fresh skunk spray. My cat is outside at the moment, and I am full of hope that it was not she who was the cause of the skunk's offense. The cat, bemused as myself, has been in and out several times. This late in the season she is accustomed to warm, dry nights which she is wont to pass entirely outdoors, alternately napping in her favorite patio chair and wandering about her territory, doing whatever it is that cats do when we aren't watching them. Her frequent returns to the warm living room tonight have been evidence of her displeasure with the sodden state of things. I am unoffended by the rain, of course. My lack of water-retaining fur may have something to do with this.
I have no idea how long the rain might continue. Its arrival was unpredicted by the newspaper, and find that I have no desire to seek out any other source of information. I rather enjoy not knowing. I have no plans that would be disrupted should the rain continue even a day or two, and thus have no need to know in advance nature's expected course. I am pleased merely to listen, and to smell the fresh scent of wet, spring vegetation (by now mingled with but the slightest remaining hint of eau de skunk.) Indeed, I could sit here for hours, letting my thoughts drift, as the sky turns dusky blue and pales to stormy gray, but I believe that the cat wants back in. Let's hope that her scent remains as fresh as the morning's. |
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