Long-suffering readers have heard me yearn (pine, moon&swoon, lust) for water and life and soil, for green plants and flowers, and for happy little creatures that gambol and frolic across the alpine meadow.
(from maxresdefault)
After years of unfulfilled longing, I am finally getting what I wanted: a secondary rainy season in the desert Southwest. And I am wallowing in it.
Let's put some color on that word 'wallowing.' It means doing more walking through arroyos. Slow walking, not gym workout crap. I sauntered and stopped at every occasion.
Just stand there and visualize the air as an unguent, an analgesic. Allow yourself to heal.
Long ago people might have celebrated rain in a rowdier fashion. Who knows what they did? Flop around naked in the mud, have orgies, perform animal or human sacrifices?
It was justified. They had more at stake than us. I will put off some of the mountain biking until the air is warmer.
Thus I am giving it my best effort at 'wallowing': keen observation followed by letting the imagination run wild.
(Those who liked the music might enjoy searching "bernard herrmann andante cantibile" on You Tube.)
This is a test.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteWhat kind of a test?
George
George, I am breaking in a new laptop with different arrangements. Gotta bring one thing up at a time.
ReplyDelete