FICKLE MORNING

I was staring out the patio doors this morning thinking about taking a walk, when three separate times a torrent of ice balls poured down onto the deck, as if God were salting the earth. Each one hit the wood, popped up and out in all directions like sparks, then eventually dissolved and disappeared.  Earlier I noticed it was dark as dusk in the house and wondered if there was a tornado brewing somewhere.  Eventually, the falling ice turned into another rain drizzle, so I decided to tough it out and walk to the mailbox to turn in my Netflix DVD, then go exploring (maybe even wind up with a bunch of munchkins…I could only hope).

The ground was obviously saturated from yesterday’s steady shower, so I donned some thick socks and my “wellies,” which made the long trek back up the steep, soggy, gravel road a bit more exhilarating than usual.  The gray sky began to show inklings of blue, and by the time I made it to the woods, the sun was completely exposed, making every wet leaf, dark branch and rock, more solid and real in my eyes.  Then instantly, like some kind of game, it was hidden again.

 

My walk on the Refresher Course didn’t yield any other out of the ordinary finds at ground or eye level.  But back at the house, up and over the hills, the sky quietly displayed a drama of dark billows and silver sun rays blasting out of clear blue openings in the clouds.  For just a moment, it held, then floated east, changing into a single saturated backdrop that restrained so much light behind it, I could not bear looking up for long.

Now I sit here at my desk feeling the lightness that comes from clearing your head and lungs on a good hike, and wondering which way the day will go.  Out the window to my right, the sky is overcast and dotted with more gray clouds.  Out the patio doors on my left, the deck is lit with sunshine and that backdrop is unveiling a few small ponds of cerulean sky.   Fickle afternoon?