Rainy Days AND Mondays

It's gray and such a denseness that the sun isn't even trying to make an appearance. The chickens looked at me with disbelief as I opened their door and they are generally unfazed by weather, directed by some internal clock to step outside and begin their day but not today, somehow.

Still, there are blooms. Spring may in fact truly be here. One wisteria blossom opened while I was gone and the white violets are scattered everywhere like torn tissue from an angel's pocket.

The train trundles by, car after car, carrying and ferrying whatever it is that trains carry these days. A lot of stuff. After it passes, I can hear the rain which has come that quickly and I am sure the garden is happy. It is falling in curtains now, more gray.

I feel gray. I feel as if I have been living my life in such small dense parameters for a long time. I don't want to do that. I want to stretch and be happy, I want to have goals and to reach for them. I want to lose some of my negativity, my inability to believe in even the smallest of happy endings.

And I have no idea where to begin.

Well. I guess it is noodle day and I am looking forward to that. I haven't seen those grandsons of mine in fortythousandmillion years or maybe six days. Somewhere within that timeframe.

The rain has slackened. It is time to truly begin this day. Vacation is over, the laundry done and put away, everything back in its place. I have grandsons to see and decisions to make and a one-year-old birthday present to buy. I have a life to live and it is Monday and although it is gray, the wisteria is doing its magical alchemy, the bamboo waits beneath the earth to begin its annual piercing of the ground, the purple violets will be next to bloom here in this yard, the sun will shine again and despair is merely a feeling that will pass.

Good morning.

Love...Ms. Moon