Friday, March 4, 2011

Watching The Puddles Gather Rain

   "No Rain" by Blind Melon has long been my happy song... the one that makes my heart smile no matter what mood I'm in. I suspect it's because to me the song feels like my childhood. It is the very essence of those hours spent on our porch swing watching the lightening and listening to the sounds of thunder and rain water gushing down the street into the gutter on our corner in the middle of summer... all of that wrapped up into a melody, the music conveying more then just a story. It describes the indescribable, a feeling, a state of being. At least for me it does.

Image c/o patterned

   I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want for Bastian in terms of childhood memories, and for our future children. I remember reading for hours, and sometimes longing for rainy days so that I had all the more reason to stay in my bed 24/7 with my books. I also remember riding bikes, playing catch, scraping my knees in my frantic attempts at hiding under bushes and climbing up trees while my sister counted to 10 or 15 or whatever number she felt was high enough to begin her search at. I remember being outside. Even when it rained. Mud made the outdoors all the more fun to explore. I have many scars to prove it.

Image c/o SashaW

   Bastian has not been able to spend any time outside since he was born and this fact saddens me. I realize he is only 6 months old, but still I long for warmth and more so, an outside territory to explore with him that isn't covered in asphalt and cement. Someday soon little man, when spring settles in to stay, we will go adventuring... I promise.

"All I can say is that my life is pretty plain, I like watching the puddles gather rain"
- Blind Melon 


  1. I love the rain as well. It's so cleansing. When we lived in London everything sparkled afterwards. For me too it's a chance to snuggle under in bed and read all day. It also makes you appreciate being inside.

  2. You give me chills! My favorite memory of your Grandpa could be a carbon copy. The storm rolling in, the thunder racketing across the horizon, rain pelting against the metal of the gutter....curled up with one foot dangling, my thoughts keeping rhythm to the squeak of that old porch swing - back and forth....and through it all the constancy of the orange glow of that cigarette in the dark. I still miss you, Dad. Every day.

  3. That sounds like an incredibly amazing memory. He was an amazing guy!

  4. Cat. I am enjoying your writing. You have such a gift for using words to paint a picture. Thanks for sharing. Lois

  5. Thank you Lois, I appreciate your kind words!


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