The Smell of Rain

Last Monday, we decided we were going to walk the perimeter of the estate. But alas, that little grey cloud that did not look at all threatening, decided we should not take that walk.
Half way up the road, the drops started, my kids and I, we looked at each other and sighed.
They were on wheels so they rushed back. I was on foot but I decided not to rush.
What's a little wet, most of all I wanted to smell the rain.
From my earliest years, this is one of the moments I  replay in my head, I have always enjoyed the smell of rain.  I look up into the endless sky like I did since the land before time, but still 'I cannot see where the rain starts from'.

Sometimes before it reaches us, I can get the scent of it and look forward to its' arrival.
It brings to mind memories of playing carefree in the garden, the field, of netball days, watching the rain from my childhood home window, images of wet green leaves fluttering from the drops.
I can't really pinpoint what it does for my senses - the clean air or the cleaning process, the grey sky,  the torrential sound and then the stillness after the rain.
Perhaps it's the nostalgia that connects it; after all rain has been a constant throughout my life.

Like this: ....God Is

Good and evil.........


http://groups.google.com/group/mothers-always

Old socks, books and me

My friend calls me ‘wacky’, in an affectionate sort of way I think (cringe).
Why because my mind works in strange ways, she’s referring to my post Self Conflict & Mortality.
It’s not like I see dead people right ? It must be all that reading I keep doing, that is stored somewhere in my mind and throws up bits from time to time for me to chomp on. But this is me and I am comfortable exploring it.

I have always been a quiet, thinking sort of person. And yet I married a total opposite who is loud and crass. Well they say love is blind and your brain is dead too for the duration. Ah, but to have a child, nothing compares to that experience and nothing changes you more. ahh but...I digress.

Old habits die hard, I don’t stay grounded by the kids all the time.
Perhaps that is my mind’s coping mechanism to get away from the everyday problem that won’t go away today. We all have ‘old socks’ that we hang on to comfortably, mine is books, escape into fantasy or into non-fictional preponderance.
Just give me a (good)book and I’d be oblivious if the world fell apart around me, that’s why I only read when I’m not with the kids and often overshoot my station on my way to work.
Everyone has a comfort zone, what's yours?