Rainy Days

'Rainy days make me feel like dirt.' 

My head jerked up and I almost gasped out loud. I didn't hear the beginning or the rest of the conversation, but this comment caught my attention. Because I definitely do not feel like dirt on rainy days.

I love rain. I love rainy days. I wish for rainy days and sometimes I'm sad when the sun comes out after the rain. 

I think I partly love rainy days because of the endless possibilities. Sewing, reading, shopping, baking. That is if I can't go to work because of the rain. But even if I'm working inside and can go to work I have endless ideas of things to do at work. 

I also love rainy days because they are melancholy. I once read a saying that said 'sad is happy for deep people.' I don't know if I'm a deep person, but sad/melancholic things, like rainy days, make me happy.

 

Throwback

I don't actually like fireworks. Bold statement from a girl who stays up late to watch them and exclaim over them, I know. But they make my head hurt. I try, but I can't even get super excited about the glittery fuzzle that most of the fireworks end in. I may comment on the ones that are better than the worse ones, but mostly, while I'm watching fireworks, I let my mind wander. And if I do watch fireworks, I prefer to watch where I can block part of the bright lights with some trees or something with natural beauty. 

 This next part is the throwback part, originally posted in July of 2019. 

 

July[4] 

We sat up on those rocks together                      Not much disturbance, just me and her                Both of us awed by the situation                        The dark sky exploding with man’s creation  

Her eyes full of wonder, she uttered exclamations,                                                          As she waited and watched in anticipation        Of the booming, the splendour, the smoke, the sparks                                                                    That were man’s creations, blowing up, leaving their marks  

For me a different awe of disturbance and sadness                                                                 How does pollution and smoke fill one with gladness?                                                                The brightness and haze eliminated my view     Of the stars and the moon in that great vastness of blue  

Which one of us was correct? I wondered,         As man’s amazing creation covered up God’s splendour                                                                She sat there excited; I sat there in shame.       But her and I, we’re one and the same.