Today has been what I like to think of as a 3-D day here along that river. That is drizzly, dim…delightful.
Actually, it hasn’t been rainy and dark all the time. There were many periods when the rain stopped and the sun came out—sometime for a minute or two, other times a half hour or longer. But it’s partly this weather ambiguity, the hodgepodge of wet and dry, sun and shadow—the quick-change, never-know-what-to-expect-next mix and mystery that I find delightful.
Then there’s the awful fact that I’ve had to work, at my desk, all day, like a responsible adult—which is a terrible burden to place on a man whose fortitude of character, when it comes to matters of mature reliability, does not deal all that well with temptation. While a pretty girl and a pretty day are both apt to turn my head, I know better than to go chasing after the former…while the latter can almost effortlessly induce me from my appointed task. Show me a flash of sunshine and I’ll hastily grab my fly rod, already rigged and resting conveniently by the front door, and go straightaway to indulge in a gleeful fling. Should the fish in the section of stream which flows past the cottage prove cooperative, such a fling might persist for several hours.
Of course any such inveigling “fling” might be photographic rather than piscatorial, or a simple overpowering urge to place the chaise longue somewhere under the shade, make myself a big pitcher of iced tea, pluck a good book from the shelf, and loll away the afternoon with all the self-coddled pleasure of a coonhound wallowing in cool dirt.
Whatever. You can easily see why, should indoor work truly need doing, a rainy day can prove to be my personal blessing.
Which is pretty much how it worked out, except for a time or two when I stood in an open doorway and shot a few photos of dripping leaves, water droplets on the river, the wet deck planks, and whatever else my prodding photo muse deemed worthy of a megabyte or two on the memory card. (That about ninety percent of what I shoot usually gets deleted upon first glance into digital oblivion, tells you emphatically that my muse did not graduate with honors at the head of his class…if he did, in fact, graduate.)
I also spent several interludes watching the ruby-throat hummingbirds joust around the feeder. It always amazes me how these tiny creatures are rather blasé when it comes to rain. While they won’t feed during a downpour, just let a heavy rain slacken to a shower and there they, like magic, hovering and sipping. And, of course, squeaking like enraged mice at any competitor who dares challenge their airspace.
My work for the day is finished. At the moment the sun is shining bright, gleaming off the wet sycamore leaves along the river. Cicadas are ratcheting from the trees. And the hummers are doing fast turns around the feeders.
I may yet get in some extended outside time. Though probably not. The forecast calls for off-and-on showers to continue throughout the night. Even now, I hear thunder rumbling off to the west. My best bet, I think, is to mix up the loaves of carrot bread I’d been intending to bake since yesterday—and piddle around outdoors while they're in the oven…providing it’s not again raining.
Frankly, I don't really care either way. These 3-D days can be delightful, regardless of whether you spend them in or out. Why should weather be the only thing changing?