Fri 17 Sep, 2010 11:01 am
I sat outside on my stucco-walled patio surrounded by clusters of perky lavender tulips, drooping stalk remnants of yellow daffodils, and the last pink Cymbidium orchids blossoms of the long, dreary gray winter season.
It was Spring! and the first flawless sunny day after three months of bone-chilling, unrelenting rain and floods.
With my dogs curled up asleep nearby, I leaned back in my chair and sighed,
soaking up the sun's penetrating warmth and staring up at the sky through squinting eyes at the billowy cream-colored clouds suspended against the brilliant blue background.
I recalled pleasant childhood hours spent identifying the cloud shapes floating overhead, deciding whether they were jungle animals, exotic rose vines, medieval castles, or the faces of old folks from my neighborhood.
I stared at these new clouds in my old age, trying to recapture the imagination of my youth. But the earth's spin rushed the clouds by too fast and the shapes curled and twisted so rapidly that I could not connect them with anything from long ago or to anything the future held. I could only enjoy their beauty briefly before the next rain storm came thundering in.
A too brief respite of contentment.