keeping sane in the rain

Deep shadows after rain. Monsoons are coming early this year - or maybe it's not monsoons at all - just plain old rain. Daily thunder, lightening, brief heavy showers in evenings after warm sunny days. The landscape lush green. Lovely. Except the lilacs are sparse, disappointing - even in town where certain areas have old magnificent lilac trees that usually send intoxicating scents out in all directions for about a week each year. A low wall of lilacs along our shared dirt road has only a half dozen blooms. I guess this winter/early spring really was as harsh as we all thought. My entire harvest of lilacs amounted to this puny bouquet. They're skinny, the scent is faint and the color is darker than usual.

Last year there was a vast overgrown field on the way to Taos Pueblo that was absolutely white with wild plum blossoms - like fragrant snow. Just the way Mabel Dodge Luhan wrote about them in Winter in Taos early in the last century. Not this year when they exuded a sort of brownish petal haze. What's going on? Ancient Japanese haiku poets wrote thousands of poems about plum blossoms. Is anyone reading this?
     Spent entire day at computer writing up interview, downloading photographs, emailing, having book meetings and calls. It's coming together at last - we have sporting chance of meeting deadline! (It helps that the deadline is later this year than in previous years). Just a couple more details on artwork and the ms. can go to the proofreader.
     This morning as I drank tea in my PJs at the kitchen table and listened to details about artist husband's latest work and the task (difficult, he said) of photographing them well enough for museum/gallery mailings, to keep my sanity and get my own To Do Today list straight in my mind, I finished a pair of baby socks guaranteed to stay on tiny moving feet. Or so I've been told. Personally, I have no first hand experience with these particular socks, although I've made them several times and given them away, but it seems logical - they fit snugly and go halfway up the leg. But there was that time a few years ago when I made them for newborn twins whose mother said that one of the babies simply inched her way to the top of the crib, leaving the empty socks behind like a vapor trail. I found the mimeographed (yes, that's what I said) pattern somewhere many years ago - I'd give credit where it's due except I don't quite know where it's due. So I hope I don't get sued for copyright infringement.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I should start counting the ways in which knitting has kept me sane. Start now. This morning at breakfast...



Monsoon rain in May
and a dearth of plum blossoms
Why expect so much?