|(The marsh in one of it's moods)|
Isaac didn't head my way, but he sent me some rain. A few showers from his periphery. It may sound crazy, but I was actually hoping that he would have shifted to the east coast and paid Savannah more of an official visit. Past experience has shown me that the more serious weather just passes Savannah by, for the most part. This small and historical town sits in an indentation at the base of the coastline, just above the Florida - Georgia border. The last hurricane to come by was Hurricane Irene, and she just kind of waved at us as she blew past. For that storm the radar on television showed the usual map of Savannah and its surrounding islands, the Atlantic ocean meeting the shoreline with its big blue self. To the right of the screen there were bands of green rainy weather swirling past. Close enough to raise one's hopes, but having no intentions of a visit. SIKE!
I know that storms of that kind are known to often cause any number of problems...I just happen to be someone who likes intense weather. Yes, I could be asking for trouble, but there is something so exhilarating and fascinating about inclement weather. After last year's fairly rain-free season, I have been loving every moment of 2012's wetter rainy season. More would be greatly appreciated. We do need it.
The last few days have been filled with overcast skies, thunder, and showers ranging from a sprinkle - to a drizzle - to a steady rain. Sandwiched between the periods of rain were peaceful interludes, perfect for a stroll of picture taking. This post is a collection of some of the shots I took. I have a few forms of therapy I use to relax...I am putting one of them to use right now. Sitting at my computer, cup of strong black coffee, new pictures downloaded, and a fresh blog post primed and ready to come out.
The air here in the south is rather thick, and rainy weather amplifies the sticky factor. The air during my outings was no different, but there were breezes here and there that made the humidity a bit more bearable.
A sky blanketed over with storm clouds produces my favorite type of natural light. Not too dark, and not too bright. Colors are richer. Patterns created by the various types of flora are seen in their matter-of-fact state. No bright direct/indirect light (i.e. the sun) casting shadows and such that distort the pure state of an image.
There is something so soothing and peaceful about walking around in nature when it is wet with rain. There is a 'clean' quality to sound that is so distinct. Everywhere I went on my walks, there was always the patter of collected rain dripping from leaf and limb, down to other limbs and the drying bed of twigs, pine cones, and needles on the ground.
Rainy weather...the great stress reliever.
"It was raining in the small, mountainous country of Llamedos. It was always raining in Llamedos. Rain was the country's main export. It has rain mines."
~ Terry Pratchett, 'Soul Music'
"The Rain" (excerpt)
By: William Henry Davis
"I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
'Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near."
"Rain clouds come floating in, not to muddy my days ahead,
but to make me calm, happy and hopeful."
"Outside the drizzling rain had begun again. It pattered around the house, and on the roofs and eaves, like a million, tiny, stealthy feet: softly, as though the night were teeming with a host of minute, dark beings."
~ Evangeline Walton, 'Witch House'
"Oh, Gray and Tender is the Rain"
By: Lizette Woodworth Reese
"Oh, gray and tender is the rain,
That drips, drips on the pane!
A hundred things come in the door
The scent of herbs, the thought of yore.
I see the pool out in the grass,
A bit of broken glass;
The red flags running wet and straight,
Down to the little flapping gate.
Lombardy poplars tall and three,
Across the road I see;
There is no loveliness so plain
As a tall poplar in the rain.
But oh, the hundred things and more,
That come in at the door! --
The smack of mint, old joy, old pain,
Caught in the gray and tender rain."
"Why the Egyptian, Arabic, Abyssinian, Choctaw? Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder go when it dies?"
~ Ray Bradbury, 'Something Wicked This Way Comes'
"And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath,
the rain came."
~ Truman Capote, 'Other Voices, Other Rooms'
|(A forest trail I keep meaning to explore...)|
By: Raymond A. Foss
Huge droplets explode in the puddles
small lakes in the uneven surface
craters in the alley, rivulets connecting them
giant bubbles bursting in great pops
rain falling from above, not reaching the ground
secondary raindrops swell,
coalesce on the oak branches, the broad leaves
on acorns and wires
turgid droplets, bombs
hurl themselves to earth
erupt in final glory
"I, too, seem to be a connoisseur of rain, but it does not fill me with joy; it allows me to steep myself in solitude I nurse like a vice I've refused to vanquish."
~ Julia Glass, 'Three Junes'
|(Top Left: Pampas Grass; Top Right: Crepe Myrtle blooms;|
Bottom Left: Trunk of a Palm tree; Bottom Right: Young Magnolia seed pod)
"Sitting on the porch alone, listening to them fixing supper, he felt again the indignation he had felt before, the sense of loss and the aloneness, the utter defenselessness that was each man's lot, sealed up in his bee cell from all the others in the world. But the smelling of boiling vegetables and pork reached him from the inside, the aloneness left him for awhile. The warm moist smell promised other people lived and were preparing supper.
He listened to the pouring and the thunder rumblings that sounded hollow like they were in a rain barrel, shared the excitement and the coziness of the buzzing insects that had sought refuge on the porch, and now and then he slapped detachedly at the mosquitoes, making a sharp crack in the pouring buzzing silence. The porch sheltered him from all but the splashes of the drops that hit the floor and their spray touched him with a pleasant chill. And he was secure, because somewhere out beyond the wall of water humanity still existed, and was preparing supper."
~ James Jones, 'From Here To Eternity'