I have just returned from a walk to the mail box several blocks away and wish I could be out there for another hour or more, but alas, I must now remain at home for my appointment with SaskTel.
It is so beautiful out there. The rain is gentle and warm as the usual prairie breeze is absent this morning. The smoke is hanging down just the way it does on the place I wish I could again call home: Vancouver Island. The absence of mosquitos due to the dry spring is just like icing on a cake, the final touch of excellence.
When I got back here I couldn't force myself to immediately open the door and step inside. Just had to stand out in the rain for a couple of minutes until I noticed some neighbours peering out their windows at me and probably thinking I am a complete loony. Guess I need to have a cigarette in the house to stand out there holding in this weather and then no one would think anything of me getting soaked in the rain on my own porch. haha
It is probably a good thing I no longer live on the Island....or in Ireland....or in any part of the world that tends to be rainy, foggy, green and warm for great periods of time. Such beauty brings me to tears almost every time I see and experience it. The Celtic aspect of my geneology seems to have worked overtime all my life: this kind of weather, medieval weapons displays, Celtic pipes and drums, all bring me to tears. It is kind of embarrassing actually, but it seems to be just the way it is for me.
When I go for walks on the Island, through the lacy ferns and huge cedars, I am always a blubbering mess by the time my walk is ended. My husband thinks it is hysterically funny but restrains his responses admirably and lets me go to it for as long as it takes to get over it. Such a sweet man, no matter how confusing he finds me to be. I am indeed blessed.