Tag Archives: rain

Travelogue, Weather Date: March Seventh, 2011

10am – left New Hampshire in a fog
11:09 – “Hey, it’s Snowin’!!!”
11:19 – weaving in and out of bands of heavy snow
12:45 – still in Connecticut and there’s ICE on the naked trees, for miles;
no dripping though, nothing’s wet, so the ice happened because
there was precip in the upper atmosphere which was cold enough
to harden. When looking ahead, the trees glisten in the sunlight a
beautiful white – otherwise, it’s dry ground, and very cold.
Hit NY state at 1:07ish with the blue sky and fair-weather clouds, a lttle
windy, BUT LOOK, at the higher elevations the ICE shines
from the trees!
Paid the last two tolls with talkers in front of us… ahhh, we’re moving again
but now we’re in the Empire State, it’s 1:35 and who knows what awaits
when we arrive home?!
Wow, NJ looks dry, the snow has melted, but there’s no signs of snow, rain, sleet, or shiny trees!
2:07 arrived home. Glad we only drove through that mess and didn’t have any of that while tapping maple trees for SaWEET Maple Syrup! Now, what do we have for lunch that hasn’t grown things?
©dld o3.o7.11

They Don’t Make Rain Like They Used To

We all knew what was coming next, all of us apparently, except for me. It all started when Jeremy S. bought a flute at a yard sale. After taking to playing it rather well, he thought it would be a gas if the rest of us in the Tuesday night AA meeting each bought an instrument in and we could play as an orchestra, during the last ten minutes of our gatherings.


Mickey D. grabbed an old trumpet from the garage, dusted it off, polished it so it looked new, but when he placed his soft lips around the mouthpiece, the very first, single, solitary note that came out sounded as though something was leaking from a pipe, rather than the smooth, wallowing sound we all expected. “Clearly, he needs to practice”, I thought.


Marlena L. also purchased a violin from a yard sale. It was a small, student’s model, but she knew she needed to tune-up her abilities, for it had been more than 30 years since she played in her high school’s band and she didn’t want to slip-up, because she knew how a violin could sound like fingernails scratching a blackboard if the wrong strings were played. Slowly, but surely, each of the thirteen of us took up an instrument and we thought that we could use the ten minutes each week to practice for a recital we could perform at the Holiday Party we have every December.


I was getting rather good at playing the autoharp that had been leaning on my wall the past twenty, or so, years, as I practiced solo, without ridicule or being disturbed after I got home from work everyday. And it seems that everyone else had been doing the same, for each week when we played together as a group, we sounded better than the week before, although we still sounded like a bunch of musical misfits.


After rehearsing for nine weeks, we were getting close to that December 20th date to debut our motley crew. Yes, we were a gang of wanna-be’s, but no one was hiding the fact that we really weren’t musicians and took it all in stride. We all went along for this ride, but this is where the story goes awry.


With less than one week left, we had decided to gather at Marcus B.’s the Saturday before the party. Marcus told us that he had enough room, but lacked the seating and asked us each to bring a chair. After arriving, I popped the latch and walked around to the trunk of my car to pull out the folding chair, when it began to rain. This was no ordinary rain… it poured! Rain that pelted sleet as though it came from someone’s slingshot! And I was it’s target. I was barraged so fiercely and hard, I was struck down, face in the dirt, one arm holding the leg of the chair, the other cradling my autoharp.


When I came to, I was inside Marcus’s living room, soaking wet and sore on my left arm, all the way to my index finger. No one told me how badly it looked. No one told me that I appeared differently, and until we began to play Greensleeves, I hadn’t noticed that something was very wrong, or so I thought. Greensleeves was a song that had a solo part I played, so when it was time for the refrain, I just froze… but the autoharp played itself. “What the…?”, I asked while watching my finger direct the strings to be strum. It was dumbfounding, but there it was, right in front of my eyes, I became nervous and stood up, all the while, the music played on!


Nothing was obvious to me, not at this point, and because I had been unconscious, I have no recollection of anything happening, but it seems that I was now a conductor of electricity or something similar. Marlena L. said to me, “You were out like Sonny Liston in the ring, but things began to move around the room, it was eerie but also very magical. You were like a devil playing, things were thrown about the room, instruments were chasing people. We didn’t know what to make of it! Rather than get you to the hospital, we thought we could have a little fun with you first.  Hon, are you feeling okay?”


That night, I shrugged it off and made like I was, but I knew something had changed inside of me. Needless-to-say, I came here to the Mayo Clinic after our Holiday Bash. They say that I was stuck by lightning and a surge of energy wreaked havoc on my nervous system. That much they know for sure, what they don’t know is how to fix it. Two hours ago, I made a phone call asking for a cab, I’m going home. I decided to use this “power” to my advantage. Since I’ve been here for six weeks, I decided soon after getting here, that I wished to change my job and after about seven phone interviews, I finally got the call – I will be the next Conductor for the Boston Philharmonic, I start tomorrow.



-dld January 15, 2011-


T10 prompts: We all knew what was coming next – in the garage – single, soft, slip – something leaking – the trunk of the car, above Canvas Image



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this is post # 8 for the WordPress aPostaDay challenge, How do you stay focused on a task or activity? this post is for the fact that i find rain, a comfortable numb, How do you stay focused on a … Continue reading

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Coming of Age

“Psychics can see the color of time, it’s blue.”
that is what I wrote on the wall
while I sat in the kitchen sink,
waiting for the rain to stop.

I was four years old and still fit in that sink on South Street,
nevermind how I knew what a psychic was,
or that I knew how to write…
let’s just say that I knew things.

as childhood unfolded,
I knew other things with such certainty,
others learned to avoid me
as though I was a pandemic plague
and out to get them, put them under my spell,
or eat their brains!

I knew I was Coming of Age,
when I learned I can make things move,
make events happen,
and when I learned that it would benefit me…
I was punished
by Going Mute.

as I was Becoming a Woman,
I knew pink organized in bubbles
only to float away in one’s dreams,
but dreams can be lucid
and be moulded to your heart’s desires.
I Became a Woman.

I knew I was Entering Wisdom,
when I learned music dances to my breath
while the sound of the abandoned wailed angst
in my bones and I could free them
by teaching them Love.

the others,
they cast yellow shades of cowardess,
in the shadows that forever followed them.
they should have learned to Listen…
for, I’ve learned to speak with my pen.

11.16.10 dld
– – – – –
written for the muse is IN

Seeking Zen

Seeking Zen
We had a rare fieldtrip last Friday night. Yes, I said, ‘night’ !
Mr. Bowdare wanted all his General Science students to study the night sky. He gave each of us a piece of paper with a task to accomplish, mine was to “Map-out A New Constellation , illustrated”. I thought this was a hefty task to ask an eleventh-grader, now that I look back on it, but I also thought it would be cool to do.

Once we arrived at the loneliest place within our little town, each of us scattered to get into position so that we may aquire Zen. Yes, I said, “Zen” ! I figured ‘why not?’, so I found the highest point, obviously, I chose the Granite Rock, which put this town on the map in 1808, when it began to drizzle!

I thought my plans went sour, but no sooner had it started, it stopped. I’m actually glad it did rain, it made for clearer air, where I could see sooo many stars.

I had a plan to seek the furthest source of light in the sky, first. From there, I would find the first star that had colour, other than white. I made a mental image and before I knew it, I was drawing on my paper for every second, of every hour! Like a troubadour marching into battle, I drew and drew more.

The drawing of stars and noting of what their names are seemed to overcome me. I was grasping for more. It wasn’t enough, I was incessant for my quest to be perfect, both with my picture and my description… and let’s not forget about finding Zen!

We didn’t leave that lonely place until four in the morning and I was exhausted from thinking so much, that when I went to bed, I threw myself on the bed, as I ususally do, but in this instance, I drew a crushing blow to My Map of Bowdare’s Arrow. The paper, all crinkled and with a hole, smack-dab in the middle of it’s tip, became worthless.

In a stunned gaze, I went to the laundry room downstairs, fired up the steam iron and, like that Troubadour, I saved the day!

You’re probably wondering why Iam reading this diary entry… well, I just bought that property and plan to build my home with the Granite Rock right beneath the northwestern sky where you can find Bowdare’s Arrow on an October night.

I’d say that I found Zen that night!

~dld October 22, 2010
This story derived from a writing challenge between
SenderUpWords from “Can You Spare a Word or 5?” at
Sender’s Five Words to me:
troubadour, sour, incessant, crushing, constellation