Something about dew in the early morning covering velvety soft flower petals feels like hope and renewal. Especially when the color yellow is involved. Dew is a form of water I would designate as dreamed up by fairies. It is so delicate and subtle and covers all it touches with a gossamer touch, never weighing down nor drenching. More caressing.
A relative of dew is fog which blankets us regularly, we who live here on this island by the sea. Fog seems to say don't look at things so sharply. Let your eyes go soft.
In the winter, when the air is crisp and you can smell snow (even though it rarely comes to us), there is a bracing kind of moisture that does not so much chill as it quickens the senses from just the sheer quality of freshness. It is a time of year that I am not so aware of our air being salty sea air. The winter air feels like it is delivered straight from the North Pole.
When storms blow through, wind gets in on the act and we can get sideways rain that can feel like being pelted by little pebbles. When there is less wind but we get what is affectionately known in the South as a 'gullywasher", it is the sound of all the water gushing from above that gets the attention.
During the hot August dog days, the sheer oppressiveness of the humidity can be like we are being sat on, or like you could literally wring the air out like it is a wash cloth. That is when my dogs look at me as if to say "make it stop."
But now it is Spring. This is the season (ordinarily, though nothing about weather is ordinary anymore) of the light rains, the sweet rains with the gentle thrumming sounds. Also, it is a time of the fickle rains that start and stop and keep you guessing.
So, you may ask, why all this focus on water? I just figured it out. I sat down to write and didn't realize, I am really thirsty. The body rules!
A relative of dew is fog which blankets us regularly, we who live here on this island by the sea. Fog seems to say don't look at things so sharply. Let your eyes go soft.
In the winter, when the air is crisp and you can smell snow (even though it rarely comes to us), there is a bracing kind of moisture that does not so much chill as it quickens the senses from just the sheer quality of freshness. It is a time of year that I am not so aware of our air being salty sea air. The winter air feels like it is delivered straight from the North Pole.
When storms blow through, wind gets in on the act and we can get sideways rain that can feel like being pelted by little pebbles. When there is less wind but we get what is affectionately known in the South as a 'gullywasher", it is the sound of all the water gushing from above that gets the attention.
During the hot August dog days, the sheer oppressiveness of the humidity can be like we are being sat on, or like you could literally wring the air out like it is a wash cloth. That is when my dogs look at me as if to say "make it stop."
But now it is Spring. This is the season (ordinarily, though nothing about weather is ordinary anymore) of the light rains, the sweet rains with the gentle thrumming sounds. Also, it is a time of the fickle rains that start and stop and keep you guessing.
So, you may ask, why all this focus on water? I just figured it out. I sat down to write and didn't realize, I am really thirsty. The body rules!
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