THE POWERFUL HANDS OF RAIN

I desperately wanted to get up early this morning, I had so many things to do-- make a fire in the stove and have breakfast before hunkering down to a couple of urgent early editing deadlines so I could get a headstart on some long-overdue outdoor work, which would have been great on several levels, but the powerful hands of the heavy spring rain cascading from the top of the sky onto the roof and forest around, and the irresistible veils of mist floating by outside the window pinned me to the bed so strongly that I could barely move my eyelids. Frustrating, to say the least.

I struggled valiantly for nanoseconds, but in vain one opposes the powers of nature; the musical power of the rain was so torrential that I barely managed to turn over - the better to bear the euphonic pressure - briefly rearranging my pillow to optimally cushion my head against the misty forces and tuck the blankets in place around my shoulders so as to at least maintain essential toastiness while suffering forced immobility, so that my frustration would not seem so severe. Sometime soon, god willing, the rains would slow and the mist would clear, then I would be able to get up and at last set out toward fulfilling my numerous responsibilities.

I was so restrained I couldn’t even tap my foot in impatience, so I didn’t bother trying. It took quite a while, big strength of character and a series of excellent dreams before I was able to overcome the multiply faceted insistence of nature, open my eyes to slits and struggle up onto one elbow, from which height I was able to determine that additional winks was the superior choice.

He who would follow the natural course of springtime must be decisive.