No porch blogging today. It's not impossible, of course; I could if I really wanted to. But they say that water has a negative effect on keyboards, and the heavens have decided that the world isn't quite clean enough and are liberally dispensing precipatation designed to echo the prelude to the Great Flood.
Which actually is fine. Yesterday I was all geared up to hate the gray wet weather (fifth rainy day in a row), but as I breezed out the door on my way to work the intoxication of the rainy June smells almost stopped me in my tracks. Locust blossoms, catalpa, azalea, roses, ferns, the spices of wet wood and field all rushed over me and I almost called off work just to go run around in those dizzying scents. Rainy June days are possibly the best all year.
And rainy Saturdays demand plenty of naps, and housework, and langorous stretches and lots of going nowhere and puttering. So delightful.
Except that with the damp boosting the power of every scent molecule, you can really tell that my parents' dog needs a bath.
1 comment:
Last night, the damp boosted a disgusting blend of city aromas on the bus I was stuck riding for 40 minutes.
But today is 85 and almost painfully sunny. I can feel my skin baking. LOVE IT.
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