This week was marked in a few really rainy stormy days. The clouds rushed by our heads so quick there wasn’t even enough time to muster up an animal or a face in the fluffy whiteness up above. The air is so thick and humid right now. The trees and vines are drooping low to the ground from all the weight. And everything, I mean everything is a green so shiny it takes your breath away. Around here the trees grow a spectacular fern on the tops of every branch and twig. When its dry they look like they have all but died out, but then just a touch of rain and they perk right back up again.
Just like that.
The rain didn’t stop us though. It couldn’t. I didn’t have a choice. Being in the house for several days straight with these two is not an option. Not that that sounds appealing anyways, but that is besides the point. So, we donned our rain gear and dutifully headed outdoors each day, rain or shine.
A three-year old excels in the uncomfortable. They seem to not even notice. They are quite alright with sopped up socks and tiny gnat bites. It is just not important. But, a one year old? Their preference is to dive bomb in every puddle they see, face first, for the first ten minutes you are outside and then insist you hold their muddy, sticky, soaking wet selves the rest of the morning. I know better than to just change them, for that would be all the encouragement to just do it again.
Poor little guy has been through the ringer lately too I may add. He took a solid spill off our back porch steps yesterday leaving him beat up and bruised all over. And of course, he already hurled himself off the couch to split it open a bit further this morning. Sigh… crazy kids.
Seems that the rain brought in more than just green ferns too. The world is coming alive, and with a vengeance too. There is nothing subtle about the spring around here, though the climate may be warmer all together.
No no, the grass all of a sudden needs to be mowed, wildflowers swish at your knees, and birds come flitting in flocks upon flocks. All at once.