Rain and Being...Day 6

I've talked about feeling scattered and rather unfocused...that's part of what this 31-day discipline is about.  Finding my OWN way, staying aware. 

"Let your focus be gentle, not forced.  Enjoy it, drink it in, pay attention...but a quiet, accepting, flowing attention.  No need to push in any way...let it happen and gently notice when it does.  Let it unfold, allow it to reveal itself to you."

That was the sense of guidance I got on the 6th day...and so, I did.  The rain fell straight down in sheets that obscured Siloam Mountain...I caught it in my hands, and tasted it, and washed my face in soft freshness, just because.  My gratitudes were many and heartfelt...

My succulents remind me that we all need different things...these lovely, varied plants thrive in dry conditions, and so I had to move them back from the edge of the porch to allow them time to dissipate some of that moisture from the splashing rain!

Although it was rather hot and sticky, by afternoon, I decided to go with my husband to the lake after all; he would fish, and I would explore...but I chose to drop him off and explore the other end of the lake, which was uncharacteristically deserted.

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Rocky Hollow evening, alone on the east side of the lake...and much cooler than I expected.  A pair of green herons ply the shallow water at the inlet end, and a kingfisher startles me with his rattling flight and loud voice, diving after his prey and darting away to perch on an uprooted tree.  Later, a great blue heron joins the fishing party...

I've always complained about the debris that ends up in the lake, like this big tire...however, the green heron found it the perfect perch from which to fish!  Adaptable serendipity...the water is so shallow on that end that the tire was resting in the mud.

As always I am fascinated with bits of weathered wood that tells a myriad stories...I see so many shapes there...

I can see my husband, off in the distance across the calm, mirror-like water...there is no one but me on this end of the lake and the quiet is palpable and comforting.

I've drawn this tree half a dozen times in a variety of seasons...graceful and enduring.

I wonder who lives beneath that rock...

A huge fish swims slowly in the shallows, his fin protruding from the water like a shark's...and of course he is NOT, but I enjoyed the fantasy.  Don't go in the water!