This is the time of year when we get most of our annual rain here in Florida. And this week has been nothing if it hasn’t been seasonal.
Yesterday rained on and off for most of the day. I don’t mind, but it certainly puts the cats in a bit of a mood! They are not fans of getting wet and they suddenly become all affectionate and caring; I definitely become their rainy-day toy. Which is ok in my books. I will take kitty hugs any day I can get them.
They come and go through my open office door as they wish until I finally lock them up for the evening with their dinner and some treats. They were restless for most of the afternoon, waiting for me to call it a day so I finally gave in a little early and set them up for the night. I am so pussy (cat) whipped.
After all the wild creatures had their dinner set out too, I looked at myself and realized it was far too early to get myself into an evening-mode. There was still too much daylight happening outside, albeit raining.
So I figured I would grab a camera and head off to Hollis Gardens in Lakeland to see what might be blooming and enjoying the rain.
There wasn’t more than a handful of people there because of the rain, so I pretty much had the whole place to myself while I wandered around checking in-between leaves and under petals.
I got a few nice pics worth sharing and they are here at the end of the blog. I hope you enjoy.
When I got home and began checking on my pictures is when I got the news about my friend Joey (see prior blog) and it definitely lowered my mood considerably.
It drove home the notion of metaphorical rainy seasons that hit us in our lives. Those seasons where everything seems gloomy and our souls get soaked through.
Between the pandemic and the anti-racist unrest, the rantings of a dotard would-be-autocrat, and the huge anti-social social distancing aspects of Covid-life, life has definitely been in a rainy season of late.
We seem to be struggling on a significant level without break and the general response seems to be growing intolerance.
Our nerves are frayed and our stress levels are high and those of us who see a light at the end of the tunnel in November are desperately hoping it won’t turn out to be a runaway train.
So, I parked the images for a while and just thought about how bad everything was, after hearing about Joey. It must have been a couple of hours before I opened the images back up and began to look closely at them.
There was the first phase, which was a sense of pride in getting some very decent hand-held close-ups of things I could barely see with my eyes. But then there was the second phase where the life-aspect of the rain became clearer.
The gardens were rife with indicators that the rain had been incessant all day. Petals were strewn everywhere. Blooms were in disarray. The gardens looked very un-groomed and disheveled.
Yet, the torrential rains were in fact a key part of the growth that would next happen. The heavy soaking and the washing away of detritus would encourage healing and new growth throughout the gardens.
Much like the rainy season that is hitting the world at large these past months.
Failings to deal with pandemic to the point where we have had tens of thousands needlessly die has shone a light on the dotard to where most intelligent people can clearly see the emperor has no clothes.
Needless abuse of black men in blatant disregard for their lives has elevated the discussion of racism again to where it needs to be and protesters (not terrorists, Mr Dotard) are shining a light on the inequities of our society and a level that the whole world is clearly witnessing.
Once the new normal begins to take shape over the coming months it will do so on the back of this rainy season.
The bright sunshine of success keeps too many truths in the shadows. Only the heavy rains washes them out into the open to where they must be dealt with.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we actually dealt with things this time?
Change doesn’t come from the rantings of a dotard billionaire. It comes from grass-roots growth that feed on caring, kindness, and love.
And nothing makes grass grow like heavy rains.