#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Rain splattered brook

and I'm swimming back to the beginning.                        The forecasts were wrong.                           Half the sky is dark                                                                                                               but it keeps changing. Half the stories I used to believe are false. Thank God   I've got the good sense at last       not to come in out of the rain...

Excerpt from “swimming in the rain, “ by Chana Bloch

Smartly, I leave the french doors and windows open before I go to sleep last night. So the rain rushes into the dark morning and I wake to a rush of sound, freshness, I imagine all the leaves and stems and branches and blossoms in the yard and the woods, all of it, everything dry and sun drained and withered is being revived and washed clean, clean, soaked and happy. I am happy to wake into this deluge: I will be drenched and washed and revived by it too. So, we go out. I’m wearing my hat and a t-shirt and shorts and my water shoes. Charlie and Suzi are wearing their water resistant fur. Soon our feet and paws are muddy, we splash and splash through the puddles. At the brook the raindrops pelt the surface, they swim in the ferny green ruffle of rain. We keep going and going, shedding anything dry on our skins. I am so happy in the forest bathing and slapping along. I think: this is the perfect morning to swim in Farm Pond, to swim in the rain. I text my friend and say, let’s swim! She is dry at her desk after yoga. I say, well, I’m coming and won’t disturb you. So we walk through the woods and meadow to her house and I don’t have a leash for crossing the street, but they make it across and we go down her wet flagstone path, slapping along, and as I turn and turn down the path and get closer to water I feel a warmth, like a hot springs drawing me in, and there is the pond, a mist rising, and a heat calling, and I take off my hat and my shorts and slink into the bathwater, warmed and warming while the rain is pelting my scalp. Suzi joins me. I want to stay and stay, but the dogs are restless and I don’t want them wandering, so I put on my wet things and we walk happy back into the woods toward dry home. This is the spontaneity summer allows and I seized it, and was glad.

Farm Pond rainy morning swim