older… rainy day

rainy day grapes

Last week I was away from home, back in Reno, for work. I’d like to
say how I noticed the mountains, the high desert atmosphere, the high
contrast and hard edges of life there… but mostly I noticed the people. I’d last seen them over two years ago – not long, really, but I could see how they’d aged. It was nothing obvious – a face more worn, hair thinner, or grayer, or shoulders a little less proud… and then I wondered what they could see in me. I felt older, and a little tired.

Soft rain, patient. House finches pick twigs off our porch from the remains of last year’s grape vines, building nests. It’s a good day to slow down – still do some work, yes, but not so fast…
to stand outside and catch raindrops on your tongue in between. Only the weeds, and the fertilized lawns of our neighbors, make me feel behind, but I’m in no hurry. I fill our feeders and watch the goldfinches pick one tiny thistle seed at a time.