I’m bored by the time I hit number 40 but giving up is not my style. Around 800 the counts are coming along: dum dum dum—849—dum dum dum—852—dum dum dum 855 and my eyelids are drooping. The voice seeps in again.
So? What do you see?
See? Well, I see a lot of droplets.
But what do they look like?
I want to shout: Spare me! A drop of water is a drop of water! Instead, I decide to humor her and move closer to the tree.
Then it happens. I see drops of water all right, but they are all different shapes. Some are like miniature eggs. Others are like giant children’s play balls. And the colors! Some have a gray glue-like density while others sport hues of the rainbow. A few hover hauntingly like the mists on the lake while others shiver and shake, readying for the plunge. One in particular catches my eye. It is pale blue and has patterns of lace embedded in its womb. The variety is endless. I am spellbound.
A couple of hours slip by.
Gradually I realize that I have been gifted a profound lesson. It’s like a chimera yet as real as the angel’s kiss that brushed my cheek as I reached over to put more wood on the fire.
“Rainy day treasures” © Sandra Phinney
“More rainy day treasures” © Sandra Phinney