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Monday, October 26, 2009

Reflections and Images on a Rainy Day


Still and again, rain, rain, rain. My friend Susan says there are a couple good things about all this rain: (1) it will help the lake levels; (2) it isn’t snow. And I have to admit that the air wasn’t as cold the last couple of days as what we had for a while, either. (Snow is so much more welcome than cold, spitting rain with a cruel, bone-chilling wind!) So, confident that Dog Ears Books was in good hands today with Bruce at the helm, David and I did errands in Lake Leelanau, Suttons Bay and Traverse City. All the running around and socializing (we arranged to meet a friend in town) meant I only read a page or two at a time in my current book, but David’s eye exam gave me time to explore, with Sarah, the walking path that starts behind the old stone depot in Suttons Bay and to appreciate the loveliness of autumn rain when seen in intimate closeup.




Whether edible or not (to humans), fruit is beside the point, as far as the plant is concerned, I mused. If human life on earth were to cease tomorrow, plants would go on producing fruit, each one a vehicle for seeds, the plant’s insurance policy that its kind will continue. That their infinite variety is such a pleasure for us to behold means nothing to the leaves, flowers, fruits or seeds. And yet we love them, and that love is another gift given to us.




My short walk does not qualify as any kind of adventure. (For that, look to Kathy’s quest of the Rock Cut up in the Keewanaw.) There was no danger I would get lost on the short, paved trail. And yet, it did take me out of the car and out of myself, and it brought me into contact with natural beauty close at hand but easily overlooked.



My thoughts on this short excursion began with the oh-so-human question of edibility, shifted to the plant’s point of view (metaphorically speaking), and finally stopped being thought at all, becoming all but abstract appreciation, as my eye was captivated by out-of-focus dead leaves in still water beneath a thicket of twisted vines against grey sky.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

It was nice to take that walk with you--I could almost smell the rain. I think autumn is a time for drifting into reverie. Letting go of the busy questions and just being.

Gerry said...

Oh, nuts, that was not "Anonymous" but me. I just managed to hit the wrong keys.

P. J. Grath said...

Gerry, do you ever have a secret yearning to be Anonymous, just for a day? Maybe your fingers made a Freudian slip. Your voice, however, still came through.

centria said...

Pamela, I am once again behind on blog-reading (sigh) but noticed a link coming in from your site. Thanks for the plug for that Rock Cut adventure. Love all the photos of the fruits and berries. Can you tell me what that seed/cone is in the picture next to the white berries? I took one the other day, too, and wondered what it was. love the way your day meandered with its many offerings.

P. J. Grath said...

Do you mean the one I thought was tag alder? Now I'm not completely sure. Need to look into this more closely.

Love your adventures, by the way! So far my big one of today was waiting for the furnace to come at the bookshop, which it finally did....