Monday morning cup of thoughts

Here's that rainy day

photo courtesy of Pixabay

Rainy days are often depicted in songs as a sad or negative experience. I remember Kenny Rankin's Here's That Rainy Day, a song to this day that sends me to a dreamy place. Today, I'm shouting from the rooftops about this fabulous rainy day.

I wasn't aware of the word petrichor until recently. I should have been because it's an occurrence I love, "that earthly smell released by the first rain after a dry spell."

“Oh my God, the skies are filled with clouds!”

Last night as we were settling in for the evening, clouds filled the skies out our windows with the promise of rain. The past few years in California, it's typical that a forecast of rain leaves one disappointed. 

Not this time. I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of rain or, more accurately, the sound of water making its way through the gutters, and yes, that earthly smell released by the first rain after a dry spell. It's one of my favorite smells, even without a fire in our backyard. 

The scent was nothing short of intoxicating. I snuggled closer to Rick, pulled the covers up tight, and after twelve days fell into a deep unencumbered sleep. 

And today (Sunday) brought good news, our evacuation warning was lifted. Deep sigh. We can unload our vehicles and return to that blessed state of denial— denying the fact that all of the people we love and the possessions we treasure are only on loan.

A few days ago, I mentioned to my dear friend Lynn in the comment section of my newsletter that while this drill was uncomfortable and scary, it would be beneficial if we could experience this every few years, minus the drama and fear of risk. Of course, we all know that wouldn't really work the same way. But I have to admit, there have been life lessons in these twelve days. Nothing like a fire to help you sift through the clutter in your life, on all levels.

I will return to the highly-underrated denial state soon (I can't wait), but I will be traveling lighter with a deeper appreciation of my blessings and an updated version of what's truly important. 

While I joke a bit about denial, I wouldn't have it any other way. It would be far too excruciating to live life fully aware of our realities. We are not meant to dwell on what we might lose, which is likely why we default to denial mode. 

Instead, I believe it's our job in the brief time we occupy these earthly bodies to concentrate on what we have to learn, what we can achieve, how we can be of service to others, and who we can love and nurture, not in any particular order. It's a pretty wondrous adventure we are on.

This week God willing, I will be sliding ever so slowly back into denial… what fire? With our vehicles unpacked, our favorite artwork back on the walls, our toiletries and clothing where we can find them, and all of the reminders of this fire tucked away, I look forward to making chicken soup as the rain falls, welcoming fall, and appreciating life.

I have several posts I've slated to write about this experience which I will still be sharing. The next one will arrive on Friday, a humorous story. 

The raindrops again fall outside my door as I finish writing this post. The fire pit on our back deck is made of black glass, accentuating the raindrops as they fall. 

photo courtesy of Pixabay

Pitter patter, pitter patter… thank you, God, thank you God.

My mom’s deathbed prayer will be with me forever. Love you, mom.

Please join me in sending healing thoughts to the victims of the Mosquito fire as well as all of the many fires ravaging our planet.