Five miles.
At 40 degrees outside, it is wet, cold, and windy on my run this morning, quite different from the clear crisp 25 of yesterday’s blue sky run.
I have convinced myself that it is important for me to go out today, so I hit the grey road, its surface like glassy eyes blinking in the drops of heavy rain. The thick water is so substantial that storm drains are flooded, unable to keep up with the stride of rain’s fast gallop. The wind blasts in my face, prickling my cheeks like small icicles that almost burn. My Brooks running shoes slosh through deep puddles…there is no avoiding puddles today…and I feel the squishing of water all the way through to my socks and in between my toes. Water trails behind morning drivers instead of the brush of wind they leave behind in summer’s heat which cooled me when I jumped in their wake. There is no avoiding these showers either, so I resign myself to be splashed heavily by these commuters and pretend I am a sparrow frolicking in summertime sprinklers. The orange of pine needles grows more vivid and floats in pock-marked puddles, like the flesh of pumpkins strewn down the street. The water penetrates my black headband that covers my ears, my pigtails sprouting over the top. No simple grey misting today. These drops are huge, and I feel each one. Today’s rain is serious in her work.
But even in the seriousness, I like the playfulness of the rain and wind. I hum to the rhythm of the swooshing sounds.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad!
I watch leaves take flight from the tops of maple tree crowns. They have a lilt to their gait in air like the bobbing bubbles a child creates when exhaling on soapy water through a toy plastic wand. It is their turn for a solo this morning as they are the only leaves I see darting in air like the feeding glossy swallows that whip through trees, stoplights, and lampposts. How can one maple tree have such vivid crimson foliage and another be a pageantry of yellow, yellow, yellow? I decide to make up my own lyrics.
Leaves from maple trees are flying all about
Bright autumn colors, their plumage does shout
“Red, yellow, orange, to the moon we are flying!”
These are a few of my favorite things
When cold rain falls
When biting wind breathes
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad!
I can’t help but smile as I jot this down in my small journal, its own pages damp from the wet leaves I collect and water seeping through my pocket.
I am soaked after my five miles. I feel certain that the glitter from yesterday’s costumed run has been washed away in the torrents. I take off my headband and eggplant purple Adidas jacket and am delighted to see crystals of glitter still adhering to the fabric.
After five wet miles I can still see the glitter
Leftover from my costume, I cannot be bitter
Running in rain, whether it is autumn or spring
These are a few of my favorite things
When cold rain falls
When biting wind breathes
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad!
At 40 degrees outside, it is wet, cold, and windy on my run this morning, quite different from the clear crisp 25 of yesterday’s blue sky run.
I have convinced myself that it is important for me to go out today, so I hit the grey road, its surface like glassy eyes blinking in the drops of heavy rain. The thick water is so substantial that storm drains are flooded, unable to keep up with the stride of rain’s fast gallop. The wind blasts in my face, prickling my cheeks like small icicles that almost burn. My Brooks running shoes slosh through deep puddles…there is no avoiding puddles today…and I feel the squishing of water all the way through to my socks and in between my toes. Water trails behind morning drivers instead of the brush of wind they leave behind in summer’s heat which cooled me when I jumped in their wake. There is no avoiding these showers either, so I resign myself to be splashed heavily by these commuters and pretend I am a sparrow frolicking in summertime sprinklers. The orange of pine needles grows more vivid and floats in pock-marked puddles, like the flesh of pumpkins strewn down the street. The water penetrates my black headband that covers my ears, my pigtails sprouting over the top. No simple grey misting today. These drops are huge, and I feel each one. Today’s rain is serious in her work.
But even in the seriousness, I like the playfulness of the rain and wind. I hum to the rhythm of the swooshing sounds.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad!
I watch leaves take flight from the tops of maple tree crowns. They have a lilt to their gait in air like the bobbing bubbles a child creates when exhaling on soapy water through a toy plastic wand. It is their turn for a solo this morning as they are the only leaves I see darting in air like the feeding glossy swallows that whip through trees, stoplights, and lampposts. How can one maple tree have such vivid crimson foliage and another be a pageantry of yellow, yellow, yellow? I decide to make up my own lyrics.
Leaves from maple trees are flying all about
Bright autumn colors, their plumage does shout
“Red, yellow, orange, to the moon we are flying!”
These are a few of my favorite things
When cold rain falls
When biting wind breathes
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad!
I can’t help but smile as I jot this down in my small journal, its own pages damp from the wet leaves I collect and water seeping through my pocket.
I am soaked after my five miles. I feel certain that the glitter from yesterday’s costumed run has been washed away in the torrents. I take off my headband and eggplant purple Adidas jacket and am delighted to see crystals of glitter still adhering to the fabric.
After five wet miles I can still see the glitter
Leftover from my costume, I cannot be bitter
Running in rain, whether it is autumn or spring
These are a few of my favorite things
When cold rain falls
When biting wind breathes
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad!
Maple Leaves on Black Canvas, 10/26/2009
GL, 10/26/2009. Prevail.
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