Hurray for Rainy Days

The reliable sun has disappeared; the sky has been gray for three days with water drizzling, sprinkling, pouring out it as a relentless, gusty wind from up Canada way has pushed the clouds around and tossed the shrubs and young dogwood tree that I see out my window. I love the sun, love the three months of beautiful days I've been privileged to have this summer. The rain, however feels like a respite. It seems to be saying, stay in, quilt something, write some letters and a short story or two, read a fat book and some nice poetry, do the laundry, be solitary. And so I have.

Until this morning when I met with some of my writer friends and was given the gift of hearing more of Ingrid's memoir -- of being a young German prisoner of the Russians as they advanced to Berlin. It was a painful story, Wordsworthian in it's calm recollection after so many years, but even read in her gentle voice, dreadful as a sixteen year old was separated from family into unknown, fearful captivity. Then Patti treated us to her brand of wry humor and Elaine and her friend Joanne offered insights and feminist views. I read yesterday's writing as well and it was enjoyed.

Then I came home and wrote some letters and made a couple of quilt squares wondering at myself when I realized that I, who do not care for Halloween, am making a black and orange quilt. Where did that impulse come from? My stash is large, it could have been blue and red, it could have been anything else.

And yes, I am reading a fat book. It was time to take out something that has been sitting in my to-be-read book case for several years. I'm enjoying it. Rainy weather suggests a fat book about an exotic place, in this case Kazakhstan -- a culture about which I know almost nothing, but I will know a smidgen more when I finish the book and that will be satisfying. Learning about unknown corners of the world increases empathy for all. Hurray for rainy days! They balance my life.