where the writers are
This schizophrenic weather...

Even though the sky threatened rain all day long it never came and so because of that I was in a constant state of indecision. This schizophrenic weather can cause a tad of fretfulness and pacing that tugs at my psyche and sometimes in-between the torrent of madness gently reminds me to stop and lay out on the hard floor to gather myself into one coherent piece. But more often than not I ignore the voice of reason and continue on my pointless journey into the treadmill of yet another day.

But don't get me wrong because being this way can be at times invigorating albeit tiresome. I rise and prepare for work. I go through the motions. I bake the cookies and the cakes, dust the scones with pure white icing sugar, measure the thick stubborn treacle for the brown bread, weigh out the seeds. Such precision! Attention to detail. And somewhere in between the tie-dyed canvas of my existence, the abstract one quickly becomes lost in grams and fluid ounces. The scale never lies. There is no room for error. There are times when I baulk at this confined space.

The garden does indeed salvage what is prone to be lost. I amble down after dinner with the long yellow hose trailing behind me. H opens the kitchen window and shouts out to me to look at the sky. I do. It is black as tar and rain is surely bound to fall before the night closes in.  But I choose to ignore him. I walk on like a woman on a mission. Small Dog follows me, a loyal companion, with her shiny button nose twitching to the vast array of smells drifting in from the bog. I open the gate to the vegetable patch and survey the growth. The potatoes that I thought would not grow rise up green and sturdy in the rough rocky soil and the peas will be ready for harvesting in another month or so, even the onions look promising. I savour the moment. 

I spray water on everything I see. Up and down the lines with careful monitoring. It pleases me to see what I have sown is actually reaching out to the sky for salvation, for a reason. I am renewed. I look beyond the gate and Small Dog watches me all the time with her trusting eyes. All I ever want is to be here. Now. And all I crave is for it to be always this way with the brink of a sky black as tar to be falling into my lap and only a simple thought crossing my mind of wondering if the rain might come.

Comments
4 Comment count
Comment Bubble Tip

Ahhh... thank you for your

Ahhh... thank you for your post Mary!  The weather is has been schizo in my side of the world too and I've been just as fretful as the change from rain to heat to sun to storm.  At first I thought that maybe I was re-adjusting to my new schedule but then I realized that I was way to fretful to be merely re-adjusting.  Now I can hold the weather accountable and not my obsessive compulsive self!  :-)

Comment Bubble Tip

Thanks rina for falling into

Thanks rina for falling into my place and choosing to leave your mark. mx

Comment Bubble Tip

The schizophrenic weather struck here, too

Such attitude on display, Mary. Gardeners everywhere will nod agreement, she's right. Can't trust the weather. Take matters to hand. Master the garden.

The weather is wreaking problems in our garden. The weather plummeted twenty degrees. Unusual rain and cloud squatted over the valley. This is June? No. The lettuce loved it. The tomatoes and others weren't pleased. We check the weather every morning and night and watch the sky. The forecast changes by the day and seldom lives up to projections. Surly clouds stroll in. look like storm clouds. Is it supposed to rain? Will it rain?

Thanks for sharing. Cheers

Comment Bubble Tip

Hi Michael! It did not rain!

Hi Michael! It did not rain! Gardeners unite. I want those tomatoes. m