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They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
It’s wonderful, one of the best of sounds. Soft, the sound of gentle movement up, up around the treetops. But there’s a rhythm to it. Not pitter patter. Maybe pat, pit, pat, but way more subtle and random, more a blur of notes, than a pat, pit, pat.
I guess by this time of year the weathered leaves at the top of the canopy are dry and leathery. And strong. Strong enough to hold onto raindrops for a minute or two and let you listen. You can barely hear the pattering high above, but the air down below, where you’re surrounded by trees, is quiet. Insulated quiet. Like the quiet you’d get standing in a room with drapes and thick carpet.
Eventually the subconscious taps you on the shoulder to say, what is that? Wind? Rain? Yes, rain. And then if you like, you can stand still, or you can saunter along on your way, and listen. For as long as it lasts, you can listen. As long as the leaves up there protect you, you can listen.
I feel I should pause here, because there is a delay in the way this all happens. Besides, the moment deserves a pause. It seems inappropriate to rush it.
Then. Then the rain picks up and leaves give way to the weight of the moisture. Soft pit-pats become a drenching swish, a swish that makes it down past the leaves to the air that surrounds you. Down to the shrubs and small plants that grow near the path. Down to the dirt. It’s a different kind of rain sound. The kind they overdo in movies. Why can’t they get that right?
Then, I guess it’s time to move on. Make a dash for it, find a dry spot.
The air was still saturated from last night’s rain, and the morning sun was shining bright.
A few inches away, a few feet away, and beyond.
I was glad I decided to head out early that muggy morning.
When rain has
hung the leaves with tears,
I want you near
to kill my fears,
to help me to leave all my blues behind.
in your heart is where
I want to be
and long to be.
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind
~ Catch the Wind, Donovan ~
photographed june 20, 2020
somewhere over the rainbow
way up high
there’s a land that I heard of
once in a lullaby
~ ~ ~ ~
Over the Rainbow, Judy Garland
composed by Harold Arlen, lyrics by Yip Harburg
written for Wizard of Oz
photographed sometime in summer 2019