Wednesday, May 12, 2010

RAIN AND WORK

"…droplets falling through new green leaves on the hackberry…"
When upon a morning dreary,
as I gazed with vision bleary,
At the old, beloved river
dimmed behind a rain-drenched veil,
While I pondered came a plipping,
little droplets softly slipping,
From the eaves and dripping,
dripping on an upturned garden pail.
"Tis but raindrops," I did mumble…
"plopping on that upturned pail,
Only raindrops…drumming frail.
You're right—I must offer sincere apologies to Edgar Allen Poe! Though for whatever reason, my first look this morning out the workroom window at the long view of the river downstream from cottage, reminded me of his poem "The Raven." I should also admit that while it was indeed dark and rainy out, I did not find the sight dreary.
"…plopping on that upturned pail,"
Rain is a part of spring—a most necessary part. Elemental, if you'll pardon the wordplay, to the season. What sort of spring would we have if it didn't rain? Not to mention the summer and autumn to follow.
No, rain is a good thing—plus I like rain and rainy days. Especially if I have to be indoors, stuck at a desk, anyway. I work well when it rains. The rhythmic sound of raindrops pattering on the roof and dripping from the eaves soothes, while the rumble of distant thunder and the occasional flash of lightning stirs and enlivens. The mix seems to get the creative juices to flowing…or at least, so I've convinced myself.
"…a rather soggy cardinal."
Today it was warm enough out that I could open the window and allow more of the outside in—savor the dampness and smell the fragrance of the rain, hear the increased volume of droplets falling through new green leaves on the hackberry nearby, and listen to the muted whisper of the swollen river beyond. I could pick out the sound of wind dancing through the tall sycamores and the soft twittering of birds as they made hurried trips to and from the feeders.
"…the old, beloved river dimmed behind a rain-drenched veil…"
Once or twice, when the rain lessened, I managed a couple of quick turns around the yard, camera in hand—though the light was so feeble, even at what passed for high noon, that I had to crank the ISO all the way up to 1600 in order to handhold for a few shots.
"…a dim, dripping world…"
It is still raining—a dim, dripping world of saturated greens and fog above the water. The river is discolored and rising. And the closest thing I've seen to a raven has been a rather soggy cardinal.
———————

20 comments:

Von said...

One rather soggy cardinal is better than none!Lovely weather, one of my favourites and a great post!

George said...

A good attitude about rain, Grizz. The best way to look at weather, I find, is to treat it as a blessing, even if we sometimes have difficulty in deciphering what the blessing is.

I love that photo of raindrops on the deep burgundy leaves, those of a redbud, I think.

Those hiking boots you saw on my site are the new ones, purchased just a couple of weeks ago. The old ones are about shot, especially since I used them for walking on hard surfaces for some of my mileage.

As the old song goes, "Here's that rainy day." Enjoy it.

Vagabonde said...

I have not seen real rain in over a week. We were in Baltimore and it was quite sunny and windy. I would have liked to visit Edgar Allan Poe’s grave but we had a stroller with two grand kids, toddlers, and no car, so we went where we could walk. I like your river. We have a river not far away called the Chattahoochee and last year we walked along it. I took pictures of many Canada Geese, here is the link if you’d like to see it http://avagabonde.blogspot.com/2009/07/trails-along-chattahoochee-river.html. I only use the automatic setting on my Nikon D40, I need to read more on it to take pictures under low light like you do.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Von…

Lots of soggy cardinals, actually, as there are generally several near the feeder at any given time.

I'm glad you liked the post. Thank you.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

George…

I think it's my Celtic blood that finds such enjoyment and energy from rain and storms and weather a lot of folks can't tolerate. A blessing for sure…except when I'd going fishing—and even that's okay if it's not to abundant a blessing!

Not a redbud—though their leaves do resemble one another's. Rather a smoke tree, "Cotinus coggygria," in royal purple that I planted on a whim a couple of years ago and which I now adore.

Boy, I did think those were the best-looking thousand-mile boots I'd ever seen! You have a great adventure ahead, and I'm still envious…but I won't hold it against you if you put up some nice posts afterwards. (Well, maybe a little…) :-D

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Vagabonde…

It has been windy here recently, too. I'd like to visit Poe's grave, myself—though may never get the chance. I have been on the Chattahoochee several times, however, driving down from the then small town where I was studying performance (piano) music. It is a wonderful wild river.

I also read and enjoyed your post—and ended up reading several other posts, too, which I really liked. (BTW, I've added your blog link onto my list and signed up as a follower.)

Do read up on your D-40; it is a quite capable camera and easy to use off automatic for those times when conditions call for an adjustment.

Jain said...

I grinned at your poem. Lovely shots, once again.
Every time it rains here we almost always say, "We need it!" Nature's gonna do what She's gotta do and life is easier if we take it all in stride.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Jain…

Bless you my child! You have mentioned my hard-wrought Poe knock-off! Of which, I rather grinned at, myself—most likely because of the weather and hour and state of caffeine surging within my veins. I find that if I sit at this desk too long, I tend to become loopier than normal.

And indeed, weather must be taken in stride—at least here in Ohio.

Bernie said...

Grizz I love this post, the poem, the photos and your description of the day was so enjoyable. Thanks for sharing your rainy day with us. It is sunny and warm here now, I am enjoying the sunshine....Hugs

Debbie said...

I sure enjoyed your poem. My daughter memorized the whole thing
(Poe's version) at 14 and insisted on reciting it constantly around the house 'with emphasis'. That kid had a brain like a sponge. We were a homeschool family and she could pretty much pick and choose her material as long as she used it well.
She's a xray technologist now. I knew she'd do something with bones!
Debbie

Tramp said...

Hi Griz
In those lines of yours I can feel the rhythm of rain: sometimes gentle and muffled, sometimes powerful and dramatic.
Thanks for reminding us how rain can be motivating and inspirational.
I don't know why but rain makes me whistle.
...Tramp

Bonnie, Original Art Studio said...

I always find rain a sort of invitation to hunker down, pay attention and stoke creative fires.
While there is nothing like sunlight, for me, there is also nothing like the pitter patter of rain on a window and the wind howling in the trees.

Your first and last photographs are just beautiful - with the drops caught in suspension on the first - and the contrast of the crystalline water on the burgandy leaves of the smoke bush in the last.

Scott said...

I think you did justice to Poe's original--no apologies needed.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Bernie…

It's sunny here today, too—and warmer, supposed to reach 83˚F. Then, more rain and cooler. But I've already been out for a walk, had breakfast, puttered about in the yard—plus I'm thinking of a longer photo amble later on, though I'll have to dodge mud.

Enjoy your sunshine, and take care!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Debbie…

As a kid, I went around memorizing and spouting James Whitcomb Riley, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, and a half-dozen others because my father was always reciting such poetry, and I'm told his father did the same. However, my daughter managed to sidestep this family predilection for good poetry—though of course she picked up and repeated every waggish verse and bit of drivel I regularly uttered…and remembers every one still!

She's a psychologist…which must have a message in there somewhere.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Tramp…

Well, I seldom need an incentive to whistle—but rain almost always cranks me into an atypical level of productivity. I like moody, changing weather in general, storms of all sorts and in all seasons. I've been that way all my life. My least favorite weather is uninterrupted blue skies, day after day, and 80˚F or higher temps.

To each their own, huh?

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Bonnie…

No question about it—my creative juices stir when it storms. And like you, I love to hunker somewhere snug and savor the experience. I like sunshine, too—just in fairly small doses. A day is plenty; then it can be cloudy, or even rain a bit. I really like those days which often come before or after a front, where skies are an intense blue, with huge rafts of intense clouds, white or dark gray, depending on whether the storm is coming or going, a sky in motion where you get a constant mix of light and shade, bright and dim. Unsettled weather, I guess, but maybe that's what I'm responding to—the pending adventure, the possible excitement, knowing that something is afoot and change is coming. It's almost like being stalked—slipping through the thick elephant grass, rifle in hand and ready, breathing with your mouth open to maintain silence and boost hearing, listening for the slightest sound as you scan for the least movement in the waving wall of green or the shadows beyond that could be your very last realization if you're not better at the game than that which hunts you.

There something in there that reaches the same primitive center—the survival receptors—that I like to feel on alert and working every so often…even if it's just a bit of rain moving in from the west.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Scott…

Thank you for saying that—but I suspect it's wise to keep the day job. Poe went on for verse after verse, stanza after stanza. And did them all well. It's a tough form, a strange meter—at least it seemed so to me. Which doubtless can be traced to respective levels of poetic talent! I can understand why he had a drinking problem…

Teri and the cats of Furrydance said...

There's just something about droplets of water on a leaf, a flower, a pane of glass...that is like life itself...bursting with possibilities

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Teri…

A wonderful observation! A world of possibility and future…all in those tiny drops, providing you have the insight and imagination.