![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
it's the kind of grey out today that makes the streets and sidewalks look wet even though they aren't. it's not the greenish grey of an impending thunderstorm. it's more a yellowish grey. like there's rain in the air, but the air won't let it go.
i woke up today to the grey light, the damp chilled air coming in my window, and the sound of cars driving through wet streets. the rhythmic shhhhhhhheee, the rise and fall. i burrowed into my summertime bed and listened. i didn't really have any thoughts, wasn't remembering anything with words. but it felt safe and comfortable and right. when i was in high school, i used to try to find the perfect song to play, the right book to read, the right lighting for sitting in my room poetically as it rained. i was trying so hard, i couldn't see it was beautiful all by itself.
when i finally got my self put together, kneesocks with a sweater awaiting me at work, and got out the door, i inspected the ground for rain. i couldn't tell, because of the yellow grey. when i got on the street to work, the street outside my window, half the street was wet, the other half dry, and it ended after a few tenths of a mile. it was depressing to find out, in a way wholly different and more frustrating than the pleasant melancholy of the rain.
i miss living with seasons and weather. my first year out here, that winter we had tons of rain, flash floods, winds. even thunderstorms. the air got red, instead of green, before the big storms. I miss the uplifting melancholy of fall, the beauty of the leaves changing, the crispness of the air, the sharp brilliant blue of the sky. when winter starts to give way to spring, the quests for the first sprouting flowers. the joy, and the rain, watching lightning from the open garage. i miss changing clothes. i miss wearing petticoats.
i miss having joints that can handle the cold. i hate feeling like i'm trapped in the dull brown desert.
i woke up today to the grey light, the damp chilled air coming in my window, and the sound of cars driving through wet streets. the rhythmic shhhhhhhheee, the rise and fall. i burrowed into my summertime bed and listened. i didn't really have any thoughts, wasn't remembering anything with words. but it felt safe and comfortable and right. when i was in high school, i used to try to find the perfect song to play, the right book to read, the right lighting for sitting in my room poetically as it rained. i was trying so hard, i couldn't see it was beautiful all by itself.
when i finally got my self put together, kneesocks with a sweater awaiting me at work, and got out the door, i inspected the ground for rain. i couldn't tell, because of the yellow grey. when i got on the street to work, the street outside my window, half the street was wet, the other half dry, and it ended after a few tenths of a mile. it was depressing to find out, in a way wholly different and more frustrating than the pleasant melancholy of the rain.
i miss living with seasons and weather. my first year out here, that winter we had tons of rain, flash floods, winds. even thunderstorms. the air got red, instead of green, before the big storms. I miss the uplifting melancholy of fall, the beauty of the leaves changing, the crispness of the air, the sharp brilliant blue of the sky. when winter starts to give way to spring, the quests for the first sprouting flowers. the joy, and the rain, watching lightning from the open garage. i miss changing clothes. i miss wearing petticoats.
i miss having joints that can handle the cold. i hate feeling like i'm trapped in the dull brown desert.
