Last night just after it got dark, Lesley pulled 3 loaves of fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the aroma filled the kitchen.
It was a cold night and a fire was blazing. Some drops of unexpected rain started to fall, we could hear them on the fiberglas skylight. I’ve come to cherish rain lately, partly due to mushroom hunting, but also due to recent dry years. I stepped outside and looked up, letting the rain hit my face. Why not let it hit me all over? I ran inside, ripped my clothes off, and stepped out into the storm. I turned my face up and extended arms out with palms up. Rain pouring, wind howling, total skin surface wet, yes! After a minute or so I stepped back in, grabbed a towel and stood by the fire. My circulation was racing, skin tingling, mojo working. How simple it can be: interaction with nature, tuning in to what’s there at the moment, and falling in with it.
Pure poetry!