Mm, the tantalizing aroma of medium roast, decaf coffee wafts to my nostrils as Bailey Boy, my dog, jabs his dewy nose into my cheek.
“Okay, okay, I’m up.”
Fortunate for me, as my socked feet slide across a meticulously clean wood floor (visualize Tom Cruise in Risky Business), my sleepy peepers awaken to the morning sky.
An expanse of glass doors affords an astonishing array of purples, pinks, corals, blues, yellows, greys, whites and blacks. Endless formations of cirrus, cumulus, stratus, you name it, float by in never-ending glorious displays of wonder.
Mother Nature and I have always enjoyed a connection and throughout my journey, tiny stones, colorful rocks, pinecones, leaves, twigs, flowers, and branches, the priceless but costless gifts that present for the picking, grace my home as unexpected treasures.
Tangible scraps of textures of varying hues sit in hand-woven baskets, adorn pine shelves and appear in almost hidden nooks and crannies. Though my fingers touch, prod, and arrange these outdoor, now turned indoor delights, the lofty stretch of atmosphere stretching above my head beckons my attention.
The faint hint of sun peeks on the horizon, and before I can sip my cup of Joe to the last drop, the orb’s brilliance whisks away the night’s darkness in one swoop.
So, what will it be today? Cloudless or sheer baby blue with delicate wisps of gossamer-like threads floating peacefully upon gentle undulating wind drifts? How about snow-white, puffy dollops that make one think of marshmallows?
Some days, Mr. Sunshine refuses to make his entrance. The gloom doesn’t always mean a downpour, but refreshing droplets nurture, and thunderous claps and far-off lightning make me slip deep into my chair. A hypnotic group of thunderheads rolls by, and peace ensues.
Sweet Jesussss! That was close. The boom of a too near for comfort strike fills the air and my being with jolting electricity, and my calm temporarily goes bye-bye.
Bright or rainy, the condition does not matter. Each offers its unique presentation and tone.
Many people sadden on dark, showering days, but these retreats from the central star’s glare are necessary to refresh the scorched earth and plants, replenish ozone that protects us from ultraviolet rays and acts as an antioxidant. A benefit is derived. Precious rain is renewal.
Living life with a spectacular view, I’ve dubbed myself the Cloud Lady. Photographs of waking hour skyward visions take up a substantial portion of space on my computer, and my reputation on Facebook supports my self-proclamation, of Cloud Lady.
The examples in this blog are only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. It is my hope they lift your spirit, and should you prefer eye-squinting, sunglass wearing days, may your wishes come true.
Personally, I welcome change, but I desperately need my sunshine. Too many days without the comforting rays, and I turn a bit testy. My fellow would use another word.
With my head in the clouds, happiness is upon me, and tarnished memories lurk in the depths awaiting a more opportune moment to strike. Perhaps, this is the reason for my skyward enchantment, and I’m grateful for the awe-inspiring distraction.
So, tell me, what is your preference, glaring or dim, and why?