Today I am Writing: On Rainy Days

I went away for a week, and then I needed a week to recover. All the catching up and the re-orienting can really wear a girl down. Then there was a sunny beautiful weekend, and still not one word was added to the book my summer is supposed to be writing. Thoughts festered beneath the surface though, waiting.

Now it is yet another week. And, it is raining.

It is the kind of rain I like, the soothing falling down kind (not the frantic whipping around kind).

I hunker down inside of my cottage. I listen to the air settling against my skin. I breathe the walls, releasing their scenty secrets of ages old. The cars along the road outside sing to me as they pass, their tires spraying mist instead of grinding down the stones.

The nuances of rhythm and pitch surround me, every open window adding in a layer of meaning. It is like the earth is breathing so that we all can hear it. It is like an invitation.

I sit down at my desk, and enter in.