Before I climb into bed at night, I always make sure my blinds are open, because when I wake up in the morning, I want to know immediately what kind of day it is. And that always makes me happy. Whether I wake up to 8 inches of new snow, an 85˚ scorcher, or a chilly drizzle like today, I’m always happy to see the day as soon as I open my eyes. That’s one of my favorite things about my dad’s house. Usually I sleep on the couch there where there is an entire wall of oversized windows behind my head and two skylights above me. I wake up practically immersed in the day outside. So today I woke up in Ireland.
It’s still and chilly and gray– weather most people complain about. But I know the life that it brings come Summertime. And I’m not simply enduring it for the glory it will bloom in June. I’m relishing it now. Gray has a beauty all it’s own.
You know, I just realized that my last three posts have been at least loosely about rain. I should be worried that I’m boring you, my beloved readers, but for some reason I’m not. My belief has always been that at any given moment, our lives should reflect and encourage and celebrate what Nature is in the midst of doing. She’s always in the midst of something, and right now she’s in the midst of chilly and gray. So that’s how I write.
Like most other people, I’ve always wanted to visit Ireland. But on mornings like this, I feel as if Ireland is visiting me. So I celebrate it. I celebrate with a bowl of steel-cut oatmeal and a cup of tea, with a crochet needle, a skein of yarn, and a half-finished baby blanket. How will you celebrate this day?