It's been raining off and on all morning. I had some errands to run, so I pocketed my camera and headed out in the van, accompanied by one of my favorite rainy day CDs - "Glacier Journey" by Christine (Quiet Paths) and Matthew. It's beautiful music to play in any weather, but on misty days with fog enveloping your senses, it's the perfect finishing touch. The road into town passes by canals and a small private marina, some drainage ditches, all full-to-bursting after a few heavy rains and the melting snow.
I stopped several places along the way just to watch the drops splash down, the circles spread, and the reflections of trees dance in a harmless wind. All the bushes were hung with fat raindrops that shone, despite the dull light, like tiny universes all their own. When I arrived back home, I noticed the one remaining drift in my yard - the one that was so huge when it was new that you could have hidden a mid-sized car under it with room to spare - had shrunk to reveal part of a tunnel, a runway, used by some mouse or vole to travel in relative warmth and safety while during the coldest days.
We had a hearty snow storm last April, so perhaps all of us will need to make our way through yet more drifts before summer comes to stay, but today, this was a day of peering into infinite worlds not seen when the road is dry, the canals are low, and the voles go about their business in tunnels underground.
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.