IS IT THE WEATHER?

 

Rain slides down the window. Yes, rain, blessed rain. The streets run wet, the thirsty trees lap up the drops on their leaves, the ground soaks it in, the scent of rain freshens the air. Rain, adding just a fraction of the moisture to our drought-ridden landscape. California, beautiful state, full of mountains, rivers, trees, ocean beaches, lakes, deserts, sand dunes, trails, grass, birds, squirrels, coyotes, mountain lions, and of course, people, all dry and dusty from months of no moisture. Rain fills us with hope, gives us a chance to take a break from the dread of wildfire and worry about the low levels of water in reservoirs.

Mushrooms running rampant after the rain

Looking out my window, I am reminded of a Facebook group whose members take pictures of what they see outside their windows and post them on FB for anyone to view. There are extraordinary shots of sights from places I will never go. The beauty of distant hills, a lake, or the ocean framed by a window above the streets below. Groups like these keep me tied to Facebook. It has been a way for people to find my blog, for me to connect with creative and nature journaling groups, for me to contact distant relatives and friends. I keep my time on FB to a minimum, but I continue to question my dependence, especially with the whistleblower's revelations of what we already suspected of Facebook. There is no money from my activities for FB, but every week I think there must be a better way for me to be present to the people I've found on Facebook.

I go back to working on a painting, writing, or designing a journal page and think about how we often let big existential questions slip by us. The climate crisis. Threats to our democracy. Too overwhelming, too scary, too inconvenient to change. Even something as insignificant as dropping Facebook becomes  a challenge. I watch out the window as the mail carrier stops at our mailbox as he has done all through the pandemic and for many years before. I walk out of the house, expecting to find the usual flyers, bundles of ads, and a few bills. Instead, clustered together were three postcards. As I read the messages from friends far away, my spirits lifted. It surprised me how such a simple gesture could inspire, buttress my soul, and encourage me to look at the day in a new way.

Let's make November a postcard-sending month. It's almost Thanksgiving and a good time to reach out to friends and family.

Thank you to Christine, Francine, and Cherie for your kind words.

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October is a good time to get your COVID booster, 

your flu shot, 

have a mammogram set. 

Take care of yourself!