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Tuesday, October 25, 2011
A Foggy Day...
Joining with these friends tonight with a bit of free writing - so free that I'm not at all sure where it's headed. Shall we find out?
If I had my druthers,
THIS is the kind of day I would choose.
Yes, I am that picky.
And yes, I am that spoiled.
But I don't get my way with the weather.
And I suppose that is a good thing.
We do need rain on occasion,
and rain is actually rather nice.
Refreshing, cozy, turning things green and greener.
I like a bit of drama in the sky at times.
Yes, I do appreciate a good rainstorm.
Blue skies, billowy clouds - great.
Thunder once in a while, sheets of wetness - yes.
But the weather that defeats me,
that visibly lowers my spirits,
that makes me want to crawl under the covers
and never come out -
well that's the kind of weather we've had for over a week now:
Gloom and darkness.
I cannot even put into words what this goop does to my spirit.
I move more slowly.
I smile less.
I have this deep desire to veg.
Completely veg out.
And today, that's what I did.
Not too proud to say it, either.
Didn't veg all day - but a good portion of it.
I taught a Bible study this morning.
I went to lunch alone at a restaurant where I wanted to get a gift certificate for my son and his wife,
who celebrate 15 years of married life tomorrow.
I bought a couple of orchids at a local warehouse,
one to give and one to keep.
And then I came home, flopped on the bed
and turned on the Tivo.
I cannot remember the last time I did that -
with nothing else in my hand to do.
Usually, I'm tending a sleeping toddler,
or answering email,
or checking facebook or twitter,
or making a to-do list.
Today I watched police procedurals -
three of them in a row,
fast-forwarding through the commercials,
sighing loudly from time to time,
glaring at the sky out my bedroom window.
I really don't like gray skies.
Really. Don't. Like. Them.
But here's what kept flitting through my memory as I felt sorry for myself and indulged by laziest desires.
When I opened the door to the orchid warehouse today,
I expected to be awestruck by the wild array
of colors and shapes and sizes of plants.
Just as I was the very first time I walked in
on Ash Wednesday, 2002, after
being marked by the cross at the
Old Mission in Santa Barbara.
That day, I felt as though I had moved from one sanctuary to another, as I gazed on the brilliance of God's creative genius and the marvelous ingenuity of the human beings who bred and cross-bred these glorious flowers.
What I did not expect today was what hit me
as the door rolled open:
the heavenly fragrance that filled the entire, cavernous space.
It was simply delicious.
About 90% of the time - orchids have no fragrance.
There is a Miltonia that smells like chocolate.
But this was sweet, flowery, refreshing and beckoning.
Immediately I asked the clerk where to find them,
picked up two of the chartreuse and lavendar Zygopetalum
and packed them into my car.
I deliberately bought ones with buds rather than full flowers,
so the fragrance is yet to come here at home.
But when it does, I will remember the
leap my heart took as I inhaled.
At that moment, the greyness of the day did not matter.
Not one bit.
Surprised by grace - through my nose!
Wish I could tell you that it cured my serious case of the blahs - but alas, it did not.
Writing this down, however, has helped a whole heckuva lot.