Monsoon brings rain in the afternoon. The clouds come together in a dark and menacing crowd and drop much needed moisture - sometimes for a minute, sometimes for hours, sometimes gently and sometimes with the full force of Mother Nature.
Our mornings are hot and steamy. The sky is blue. If there are clouds, they are sitting on Pusch Ridge, stuck on the mountain top. Mornings are the time to go outside and do what can be done, triple digits not withstanding.
Swimming in the morning when the birds are looking for breakfast and the flowers are opening to the sun is one of my great pleasures. I went to sleep last night with the firm intention of doing half a mile in the pool then cleaning out the second tall planter. I did the first one yesterday, in the light drizzle that monsoon provided. It was lovely.
But I awoke to raindrops. Lots and lots of raindrops. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but TBG is back to his morning Zoom spin class and the music was too loud and too good to ignore. Reluctantly, I got up and did nothing.
I tried two collections of short stories, but neither Haruki Murakami nor Alan Gurganus held my interest. I finished up some Cornell Club business. I deleted emails. I considered going through the large pile of I'll get to this later on the corner of my desk, but shrugged my shoulders and continued to avoid it. The grocery store was tempting, but I have food for dinner and lunch and breakfast was French toast on brioche bread which filled me up all day long.
It was turning out to be a wasted day - and then the sun came out.
The clouds were stuck on Pusch Ridge. The air was hot and steamy. The pool looked inviting.
It was the early morning at 2 in the afternoon.... truly a backwards day.
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