It’s been pouring buckets of rain. Pissing rain, my husband might say. I woke up at 5:30 to quiet and thought, hmmmm, should I just get up and go out now, while it seems to not be raining?
No! It’s warm in this bed and cold out there and I don’t wanna go! Okay. So go back to sleep. Toss, turn, toss again.
Beep, beep, beep! Six O’Clock and All’s Well. I get up, get dressed and stop to kiss my husband.
“Are you really going out there in the rain? You’re going to turn that Labyrinth into a giant mud puddle.”
“I’ve been worrying about that,” I said (whined is more like it.)
And then I felt this wave of NO! rush through me at the thought of not going out. I popped up and said, “I’m off!” and headed down to gather rain gear, my flashlight, go pee, get a drink of water and then out the door.
It’s only sprinkling! That must have been wind we were hearing. The air is crisp again, the mist makes everything look magical.
All the usual flooding spots were flooded and muddy, boots-sticking-in-the-mud muddy.
I spend a lot of the time chuckling to myself and thinking or actually saying, “Breathe here now.” or “Come back!” as I notice that my mind has wandered ahead to writing this blog, or behind to trying to redo something in my past.
And then the Brahms Requiem floods my brain with music and song. Bits of last night’s concert come back. And the feeling of being in the middle of all that sound. 107 voices and HUGE orchestra. Glorious, glorious music.
So happy to be walking the labyrinth and singing in the dark on a drippy, breezy morning!
