Of all weather (and by that I mean conditions other than temperate sunny days), rainstorms are my favorite. I love the ominous grey skies that come before, love the sound of rain on the roof, down the chimney, on the awning over the back porch – each of these has a distinctive pitch and tone, and the three combine to make a trio that rivals anything Satchmo or Charlie Parker could ever have come up with. Nature's jam session, and it's completely free.
Usually, I'm inspired by rain. I fill pages (well, virtual pages, these days) with fiction I never share (I have this issue with dialog. I suck at it.) Or essays that I really do mean to tweak one day. I switch from coffee to tea, during these phases, and hang around my house in my favorite baggy sweatpants that used to be black, and an equally baggy t-shirt.
Eventually, inevitably, the sun comes back. Often the return of sunshine coincides with the the end of a weekend or vacation, which means I'm forced to bottle up any creativity, and store it away for the next time I have time to indulge my whims.
This weekend, there was rain, and it was wonderful, but I feel as though the time spent shopping and putting together the New and Improved computer room was somehow wasted, because I didn't have time to dabble in writing or music, or devour the stack of novels in my bedroom.
Oh, sure, it was productive, but it wasn't enough. It's never enough.
Color me moody and grey today.
So moody, I actually did a
Goddess of the Night. Beautiful yet a strange
darkness and sadness lurk about you.