It rained all last night, and this morning I could sniff that nose-wrinkling mildew smell that I've come to associate with rainy days on the lake. But I didn't mind; it meant the ground was thawing. Now I just looked out the window, and the rain has now officially turned to snow. Fortunately I got out in the yard yesterday. The largest drifts are still there, but it's possible to walk around. I took my camera in case there was anything interesting to snap, but alas, no sign of critters or birds or much of anything, really. So I took these photos of the non-animal inhabitants. The little Buddha on the patio bench has a solar unit by his feet that throws a silvery light on his face when darkness comes. It doesn't last all night, but long enough to see me off to sleep. The other Buddha (monk, really) is the one you've seen here before, who looks out over the lake. And in the front yard, the twin-trunked locust tree has two little Green Man-type faces, tucked around the back so I can see them coming and going through the garage door. This summer I hope to add a nice birdbath, too. Something with a face!
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.