It’s another rainy, windy afternoon at the ranch. It seems like once the sky decided to open up it just can’t stop. It feels like March when the sky wouldn’t stop snowing. It feels like this spring has been finicky and harsh and extreme and it has enjoyed every minute it has kept me waiting.
Waiting for the snow to stop.
Waiting for the sun to shine.
Waiting for the rain to come.
Waiting for it to stop raining.
Waiting on the sun to shine.
I know there will be a time this summer where the dust will blow again and we will pray for a bit of relief from the heat and the dry, but where I come from there is not a balance.
There is only extreme.
Extremely perfectly beautiful.
Some days I feel like the weather. These days especially. The windows have been streaked with rain for a few weeks and I have been suffering from a weird sort of lingering head cold that refuses to break up and leave like the damn rain.
I’ve been working hard to ignore it, to say the rain will clear and I will feel better, but today I submitted. I stayed home under a blanket to watch it fall.
I’ll feel better tomorrow.
Head cold or no head cold, it seems I’m always so affected by the seasons and how they change, like the weather and my mood hold hands to greet the day accordingly.
Which makes me wonder how annoyingly bright-sided I’d be if I lived in the sunny, 70 degree climate of southern California.
It sounds nice right now, the sun.
But I think the constant change of seasons help me and what my husband refers to as my “restless spirit.” He says it’s hard for me to sit in one place. It’s hard for me to be comfortable in routine.
He says it’s good for me to have all this space to wander out here.
Maybe he’s right and maybe it’s hard to understand how a girl can be so rooted and so restless.
But it’s no worry to me really. I know where I belong out here, changing with the weather.
Evolving with the season.