In my writing class, I require 10 minutes of most days be devoted to free writing. I try to participate in this time, as well. After 2.2 years of teaching this class, I have finally completed my first free write notebook, filled with prompts and my own responses. I'll be mining it and posting my favorite entries with the label "notebook." Especially if you're a writing teacher, find the prompts I use highlighted at the top of notebook posts.
Here is one:
Prompt: Respond to "Fog" by Carl Sandburg. How have you experienced nature recently?
The rain fell like it does: indifferently.
The streams rose and rose.
Falling asleep under down I heard
each passing car play its lullaby of tires,
water, road.
In our small tent, I woke up to the crashes of thunder. At first, they had not mattered. They were just background rhythms in my dreams. But then, we were all awake. Angela looked about; I could see her fright in the lightning flashes. And, for no good reason, this was hilariously funny to me. I began to laugh hard. We had to decide whether we would remain in the tent, dry, but perhaps electrocuted, or retreat to the car, getting soaked, but staying whole, and with less danger of trees crashing on our canvas-covered heads.
I stopped laughing when I was shivering in the car, unable to sleep.
Showing posts with label rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rain. Show all posts
Friday, October 4, 2013
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Summer Weather: water above, water below
On Saturday, Rachel, Joella and I went whitewater rafting. It was incredible. I felt queasy before we began, but the moment we were on the water, paddling ourselves out of the group of 21 rafts, I felt exhilarated, brand new. And it only got better and better.
After a stop for lunch, we found the clouds gathering and darkening. The rain wasn't a problem, but the lightning would be. Happily, the storm missed us, and we carried on, until the river bent, and we ran straight into it. There was no take-out area anywhere near us. So we took cover under low-hanging trees and the rain fell hard. The storm never centered over us, and it was a beautiful rain, a warm and heavy blanket. When the thunder and lightning moved on, we paddled back out to the main current, and the rain continued to pour.
As we paddled, the rain eased up, and the clouds dispersed. Sunshine instead of rain filled the air ahead of us, and we passed into daylight, thick like honey from the humidity.
After taking out, we loaded into two school buses to return to the outfitter. Soon, the rain began to pour hard and fast. The moment we disembarked, everyone was soaked anew, and this time the rain was sharp and cold, so our teeth chattered as we tried to find a space in the gift shop where we would neither ruin merchandise nor be continually moistened by leaks in the ceiling.
The weather never cleared up entirely on Saturday. We returned to a tent that had collected significant moisture (though no standing water, as I had expected), and had to use Joella's ShamWow to soak things up. Then another thing happened that I didn't expect: I slept deep and long, like a tired child.
Another water story:
Immediately following our camping trip, I joined a friend and her family for their beach trip. After two days of flawless beach weather, it was Wednesday, and we saw the clouds gathering. We knew what was coming. But it was our last day at the beach, and all my companions dearly love being in the water. I encouraged them to get in while they had the chance. I read Animal Farm. Then the drops began. I packed a few things up and read some more. Then I realized how dark it was and how impossible it would be for us to miss the storm. I packed up an umbrella and stood under the remaining umbrella, willing my friends to come join me so we might miss the thunder and lightning. At last, they were the last people in the water. They saw the solitary open umbrella, bolstered by folded chairs and sheltering one pair of legs that paced in a small track, waiting.
We loaded up faster than trained navy SEALS and headed for the street, even braving a small river that had formed where the path from the boardwalk had been. We barely made it past the sand when the thunder and lightning cracked above our heads, and we rushed for the nearest cover: an outdoor staircase at a hotel. There we unburdened ourselves of our metals chairs and metal umbrella poles, and stood under the eaves of the building. After perhaps twenty minutes, the storm seemed to have moved on sufficiently, and we ventured out of our hiding place. Another loud CRACK! Back up we all went for another ten minutes before braving the foot (or more) of water that covered the street corners. Water even covered the yellow line in the middle of the road.
We were sloshing through this foot or so of water when I saw a perfect lightning bolt at the end of the same street, and heard the thunder almost immediately. I almost ran back to the house where we were staying. My, but it's good to be soaked and alive.
After a stop for lunch, we found the clouds gathering and darkening. The rain wasn't a problem, but the lightning would be. Happily, the storm missed us, and we carried on, until the river bent, and we ran straight into it. There was no take-out area anywhere near us. So we took cover under low-hanging trees and the rain fell hard. The storm never centered over us, and it was a beautiful rain, a warm and heavy blanket. When the thunder and lightning moved on, we paddled back out to the main current, and the rain continued to pour.
As we paddled, the rain eased up, and the clouds dispersed. Sunshine instead of rain filled the air ahead of us, and we passed into daylight, thick like honey from the humidity.
After taking out, we loaded into two school buses to return to the outfitter. Soon, the rain began to pour hard and fast. The moment we disembarked, everyone was soaked anew, and this time the rain was sharp and cold, so our teeth chattered as we tried to find a space in the gift shop where we would neither ruin merchandise nor be continually moistened by leaks in the ceiling.
The weather never cleared up entirely on Saturday. We returned to a tent that had collected significant moisture (though no standing water, as I had expected), and had to use Joella's ShamWow to soak things up. Then another thing happened that I didn't expect: I slept deep and long, like a tired child.
Another water story:
Immediately following our camping trip, I joined a friend and her family for their beach trip. After two days of flawless beach weather, it was Wednesday, and we saw the clouds gathering. We knew what was coming. But it was our last day at the beach, and all my companions dearly love being in the water. I encouraged them to get in while they had the chance. I read Animal Farm. Then the drops began. I packed a few things up and read some more. Then I realized how dark it was and how impossible it would be for us to miss the storm. I packed up an umbrella and stood under the remaining umbrella, willing my friends to come join me so we might miss the thunder and lightning. At last, they were the last people in the water. They saw the solitary open umbrella, bolstered by folded chairs and sheltering one pair of legs that paced in a small track, waiting.
We loaded up faster than trained navy SEALS and headed for the street, even braving a small river that had formed where the path from the boardwalk had been. We barely made it past the sand when the thunder and lightning cracked above our heads, and we rushed for the nearest cover: an outdoor staircase at a hotel. There we unburdened ourselves of our metals chairs and metal umbrella poles, and stood under the eaves of the building. After perhaps twenty minutes, the storm seemed to have moved on sufficiently, and we ventured out of our hiding place. Another loud CRACK! Back up we all went for another ten minutes before braving the foot (or more) of water that covered the street corners. Water even covered the yellow line in the middle of the road.
We were sloshing through this foot or so of water when I saw a perfect lightning bolt at the end of the same street, and heard the thunder almost immediately. I almost ran back to the house where we were staying. My, but it's good to be soaked and alive.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Walking to Devotions This Morning
After rain,
His glory:
shafts of light--
because the mist is so thick,
that we swim through the forest
as we walk.
Drip-
Drop.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Black Thing
One day, my neighbor and I were talking on the phone. We often speak Spanish on the phone, and she was asking if I would like "un mueble." After ascertaining that it was an object upon which one places one's television, I decided that, certainly, un mueble could be of use to our household. I had seen a smallish sort of desk on their porch not long ago, and quickly assumed that it was to this piece of furniture that she was referring.
Upon returning home from a walk later that day, I saw on their porch a different piece of furniture. A hulking, black entertainment center with three large shelves to the left side of the largest compartment (which was still too small for their TV), and three smaller compartments besides. Did I mention that it was massive? And this was what I had agreed to. Though cheaply made, this 55"x60"x30" skeleton weighed enough to cost four people a sweat while moving it two doors down. To our house. I felt as if it would be impossible to say no, and we paid the price in inconvenience.
There was no way for us to accommodate such a beast in either living room or dining room. And having minimal entertainment to begin with, there would be no cause if we did have the space. So the Black Thing, as we began to call it, remained in our entryway for nearly a month. Every time a friend would visit, we offered the Black Thing. We offered the Black Thing as a party favor, a keychain, a wedding gift, a birthday present; no takers! Finally Joella found a friend at her work who was interested, but in need of shipping. Joella's family agreed to use their truck, and Sunday was the appointed moving day. The only time we would have enough people was before church, however. The only difficulty was that it was raining. Hard. By the end of the loading process, we were all sufficiently wet. Joella and I, having re-secured the tarp, were drenched. After church, she and her family took the Black Thing to the friend's house. They moved the Black Thing inside, and Joella glanced around the living room, "which corner would you like it in?"
"Oh, let me show you," she replied, and took them through the whole downstairs to the narrow basement, around another corner to a small den. "Right here."
Right there. They received $10 for gas money. And nothing but the satisfaction of having removed the growing tumor of our entryway. I must repeat: this was my fault. It would have gone over much more easily if I had simply rejected the Black Thing to begin with. Yazmin would have understood. But no. Nooohooohoo. Oh no.
Upon returning home from a walk later that day, I saw on their porch a different piece of furniture. A hulking, black entertainment center with three large shelves to the left side of the largest compartment (which was still too small for their TV), and three smaller compartments besides. Did I mention that it was massive? And this was what I had agreed to. Though cheaply made, this 55"x60"x30" skeleton weighed enough to cost four people a sweat while moving it two doors down. To our house. I felt as if it would be impossible to say no, and we paid the price in inconvenience.
There was no way for us to accommodate such a beast in either living room or dining room. And having minimal entertainment to begin with, there would be no cause if we did have the space. So the Black Thing, as we began to call it, remained in our entryway for nearly a month. Every time a friend would visit, we offered the Black Thing. We offered the Black Thing as a party favor, a keychain, a wedding gift, a birthday present; no takers! Finally Joella found a friend at her work who was interested, but in need of shipping. Joella's family agreed to use their truck, and Sunday was the appointed moving day. The only time we would have enough people was before church, however. The only difficulty was that it was raining. Hard. By the end of the loading process, we were all sufficiently wet. Joella and I, having re-secured the tarp, were drenched. After church, she and her family took the Black Thing to the friend's house. They moved the Black Thing inside, and Joella glanced around the living room, "which corner would you like it in?"
"Oh, let me show you," she replied, and took them through the whole downstairs to the narrow basement, around another corner to a small den. "Right here."
Right there. They received $10 for gas money. And nothing but the satisfaction of having removed the growing tumor of our entryway. I must repeat: this was my fault. It would have gone over much more easily if I had simply rejected the Black Thing to begin with. Yazmin would have understood. But no. Nooohooohoo. Oh no.
Monday, June 29, 2009
20 Miles Later
I have a few blisters on my left foot from the last part of the hike. But the first 17 miles went really well! Becky coordinated a backpacking trip with Katie and Mindy (professionals compared to me!) and myself this weekend. On Friday afternoon we were just getting our bags packed, and my Friday evening we were still crawling along in traffic making our way to Port Clinton. We did not start hiking until 8:30pm! A thunderstorm had just finished, and the sky was clear as could be as we made an ascent up switchbacks to inaugurate our fresh beginning. Two miles later, headlamps illuminated and sweat pouring from...everywhere, we set up camp at the top of the ridge, a mile before the next spring. Becky managed to get a modest fire going after struggles. Later, we packed the food in the bear bag, only then realizing that we had far more than enough food for four people and three days. We needed two bear bags. And we were too tired to actually hoist them. So we set them far off, and laid down beneath the stars. Becky and I hastily set up the tent beside our tarp, just in case someone might chicken out through the night, and seek more secure lodgings.
Saturday was beautiful. The breeze blew as we made our way out around 9:30. It was a good thing we got moving that early, because we had a pretty strenuous hike ahead: at least 10 miles (we never were quite sure), and lots of it uphill. The trail grew rockier and rockier. We stopped at Pulpit Rock. I thought it was the Pinnacle at first, not sure how anything could be grander, but no: the Pinnacle and our lunch stop still lay 2.4 miles ahead, according to the other hikers about. And there were plenty of other hikers around on Saturday and Sunday. I don't know if ya'll have noticed, but it's been raining nonstop this June! This was the first suitable weekend for backpacking, and everyone and their dog was taking advantage of it. Having reached the Pinnacle, we stopped for an hour's rest to eat lunch. I pulled out George MacDonald for the first time on the trip. What a lovely hour. Hawks soared at my feet in a blue sky that reached the whole way to another range of mountains. The sun warmed my back after the breeze had chilled it, and I guarded my peeling (no longer red) legs in the shade of the protruding maze of rocks, trying not to think much about the rattlesnake spotted just down the trail. After the Pinnacle, Saturday ended in a beautiful three miles of spacious trail with few rocks. Katie was relieved most, having only brought trail runners. Her feet were howling and we were ready to eat again. That night we ate as much of our supply as we could: rice and beans, mashed potatoes, hot dogs, s'mores, I'm not even kidding.
Sunday, we had little idea what the trail looked like ahead. The guidebook became somewhat more vague, and the mileage ahead was also questionable. Even so, we did not leave our campsite before we had consumed a multi-course brunch: oranges, muffins (baked in the orange rinds), oatmeal, pudding (made with french vanilla creamer and water), granola, this is not a joke.
Sunday's first miles were smooth. Then we climbed steeply, not descending often, but coming to ridges only to ascend again. Soon my right knee started to be painful during descents, a dull aching at first. I am mostly convinced that it was just tired. But we were not simply going to set up camp; we were going to keep going, and so was my knee. It only grew angrier, though, apparently deaf to all inner pleading, so I began to plead outwardly. I'm sorry to say that I started to cry during our last descent. We took a break, and my companions all took various objects from my pack, and the pack itself. During this interlude, a fellow about our age was climbing up the same trail, a guitar visible from his pack. We all had enough time to joke about him playing me a song to make me feel better before he was within hearing range. Upon seeing our distress, he offered whatever help he could, his hand down the mountain, reassurance that our goal was not too far; even his mobile number, in case we should suddenly have need of it; he offered everything, that is, except to play a song. In the end, Mindy and I headed down the mountain arm in arm, Becky and Katie gerryrigged my pack to Becky's pack, and the mountain minstrel continued on his kind way up the mountain. He had lifted our spirits; just what we needed. The way up the River of Rocks trail was arduous, I daresay a good deal more arduous for my companions with the added weight. I limped blithely along, admiring the river bed that was made of nothing but large rocks. I kept thinking about what it would be like to encounter a "river" actually made of moving, flowing rocks. Painful, probably. We played the word association game. We counted steps. We counted rocks. We drank water. And more water. And still we had more up to go. When we saw cars above us, we took heart. With more water and one last, steep push upward we arrived at a third lookout (not rivaling the Pinnacle, but probably worth the seven bucks they charge at the entrance, through which we left, and so were not charged.) Our elation was visible. It may have scared the little children, actually, with their kind parents, out to enjoy the Sunday afternoon, to be set upon by four boisterous, unshowered hikers who had never been more satisfied to reach their destination.
A few minutes later, our packs safely smelly in Mindy's trunk, rain began in a short, earnest burst. Thank you, Lord, for holding onto the rain's tail just long enough not to endanger our adventure!
Saturday was beautiful. The breeze blew as we made our way out around 9:30. It was a good thing we got moving that early, because we had a pretty strenuous hike ahead: at least 10 miles (we never were quite sure), and lots of it uphill. The trail grew rockier and rockier. We stopped at Pulpit Rock. I thought it was the Pinnacle at first, not sure how anything could be grander, but no: the Pinnacle and our lunch stop still lay 2.4 miles ahead, according to the other hikers about. And there were plenty of other hikers around on Saturday and Sunday. I don't know if ya'll have noticed, but it's been raining nonstop this June! This was the first suitable weekend for backpacking, and everyone and their dog was taking advantage of it. Having reached the Pinnacle, we stopped for an hour's rest to eat lunch. I pulled out George MacDonald for the first time on the trip. What a lovely hour. Hawks soared at my feet in a blue sky that reached the whole way to another range of mountains. The sun warmed my back after the breeze had chilled it, and I guarded my peeling (no longer red) legs in the shade of the protruding maze of rocks, trying not to think much about the rattlesnake spotted just down the trail. After the Pinnacle, Saturday ended in a beautiful three miles of spacious trail with few rocks. Katie was relieved most, having only brought trail runners. Her feet were howling and we were ready to eat again. That night we ate as much of our supply as we could: rice and beans, mashed potatoes, hot dogs, s'mores, I'm not even kidding.
Sunday, we had little idea what the trail looked like ahead. The guidebook became somewhat more vague, and the mileage ahead was also questionable. Even so, we did not leave our campsite before we had consumed a multi-course brunch: oranges, muffins (baked in the orange rinds), oatmeal, pudding (made with french vanilla creamer and water), granola, this is not a joke.
Sunday's first miles were smooth. Then we climbed steeply, not descending often, but coming to ridges only to ascend again. Soon my right knee started to be painful during descents, a dull aching at first. I am mostly convinced that it was just tired. But we were not simply going to set up camp; we were going to keep going, and so was my knee. It only grew angrier, though, apparently deaf to all inner pleading, so I began to plead outwardly. I'm sorry to say that I started to cry during our last descent. We took a break, and my companions all took various objects from my pack, and the pack itself. During this interlude, a fellow about our age was climbing up the same trail, a guitar visible from his pack. We all had enough time to joke about him playing me a song to make me feel better before he was within hearing range. Upon seeing our distress, he offered whatever help he could, his hand down the mountain, reassurance that our goal was not too far; even his mobile number, in case we should suddenly have need of it; he offered everything, that is, except to play a song. In the end, Mindy and I headed down the mountain arm in arm, Becky and Katie gerryrigged my pack to Becky's pack, and the mountain minstrel continued on his kind way up the mountain. He had lifted our spirits; just what we needed. The way up the River of Rocks trail was arduous, I daresay a good deal more arduous for my companions with the added weight. I limped blithely along, admiring the river bed that was made of nothing but large rocks. I kept thinking about what it would be like to encounter a "river" actually made of moving, flowing rocks. Painful, probably. We played the word association game. We counted steps. We counted rocks. We drank water. And more water. And still we had more up to go. When we saw cars above us, we took heart. With more water and one last, steep push upward we arrived at a third lookout (not rivaling the Pinnacle, but probably worth the seven bucks they charge at the entrance, through which we left, and so were not charged.) Our elation was visible. It may have scared the little children, actually, with their kind parents, out to enjoy the Sunday afternoon, to be set upon by four boisterous, unshowered hikers who had never been more satisfied to reach their destination.
A few minutes later, our packs safely smelly in Mindy's trunk, rain began in a short, earnest burst. Thank you, Lord, for holding onto the rain's tail just long enough not to endanger our adventure!
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