Some say that talking about the weather is exceedingly dull. I disagree.
Take for instance, this adventurous morning:
Misty mornings
I stepped out to the early morning air and found myself completely enveloped in a misty, foggy, cold, moisture ridden world. I shivered delightfully at that. Somehow the atmosphere lilted the eucalyptus scents towards me even if we could not see 10 feet in front of us.
The atmosphere yanked me by my navel and took me in beautiful swirls of thought to the beautiful Nilgiri Hills – a place where the Western Ghats meet the Eastern Ghats in the South of India. Almost all of my childhood was spent in misty mornings, and rainy reveries. In my mind, if ever there was Utopia, it was there, soaked in that magic.
The slow lifting of the mists as the suns rays pierced through the clouds is divinity itself.
<pic of the sun’s rays bursting through the clouds>
The crisp sunny afternoon followed by a cloudy and rainy evening sang its Christmas carols all on its own.
Heavy Downpours
We also received our first heavy downpour of the season and it brought leaky roofs, streams of muddy waters, and swelling rivers in its wake. It was delightful.
We had all been wringing our hands a bit, and saying to each with worried tones, “It is going to be a dry year again!” “Was it always like this?” and so on. Like worried climate doctors. If I remember it correctly, even a decade ago, we had pretty good rains. But maybe I wasn’t as attentive to the data before. There seems to have been whole periods in life when the busyness of it dwarfed the ability to observe these things.
I mused on these things, and read a book sitting by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree that day.
Interconnectedness of the Universe
Some mornings, I stare up at the breath clouding near my mouth on foggy winter mornings while making a little fake-smoke-joke, and am astounded that the long dark nights still find a way to foggy mornings. If I go walking at night, to catch the Christmas lights twinkling in the community, I’ll look up at the stars if the sky is clear, and wonder whether our lives would be any different if one of those stars decided to not shine and sparkle.
Would it be a cascading effect – or would the distance protect us? Who knew?
Then, I wonder whether it is as the children say: Is it a bit odd to be this enamored by a thing as simple as the weather at my age? At any age?
Still, it is wondrous that we live on a tiny blue planet, cloaked in a delicate veil of an atmosphere, that allows for all of this to unfurl around us. If that isn’t magical, I don’t know what is. There is a word for this – the feeling of wonder at the world around us. Several words, in fact. So, it isn’t odd and I can assure entirely satisfying to be this kooky about being excited by the weather.
Nourish-n-Cherish 