Rain. Big, excessive quantities of it falling on a daily basis. Enough that grass has been sprouting up as if on steroids, thick and lush, growing at impressively supersonic speed. (Something that might not catch your attention so much if you aren't the person who has to push a lawn mower through it all.)
Last Thursday: two friends from Spain -- J. and C.-- passed through on a whistle-stop tour from Boston to Buffalo. They hadn't made a motel/hotel reservation in advance for Boston, couldn't find a room after touching down, were forced to head west in a rented car immediately, passing a night or two with friends in Amherst who hadn't been expecting them quite that soon. When they told me they'd be passing through this part of the world, I offered a guestroom for as long as they wanted it. Their response: the classic 'we don't want to impose.' Until I told them not to be stupid, when they gave in gracefully.
Thursday noontime found me waiting in front of the statehouse in Montpelier, rain beginning to fall from gray skies, growing slowly heavier as I watched tourists and Vermonters scurry by (scurrying that got faster in direct proportion to increasing rainfall). Waiting. And waiting. Couldn't call because they didn't have a cellphone. They showed just as rainfall began qualifying as downpour.
Fast, damp hellos. Fast stop for provisions. A long ride via backroads back to what passes for home right now. (Rain easing up along the way, finally disappearing altogether.) Home in time to watch Spain demolish Russia in the Euro 2008 semifinal, J. watching with me and a neighbor from here on the hill, C. retiring to a chair outside to read. (Spanish, but not interested in fútbol hoopla, hoping Spain would tank so the noise and partying back home would die away. Spain, however, did not tank. Not even close.)
Later, into town for a big dinner and a stroll around the quiet evening (rainless) version of summertime Montpelier. On returning here, we fell out of the car and C. had her first ever experience with fireflies, the nighttime air alive with gently blinking spots of luminescence, gliding slowly through the darkness. C. stood transfixed, I stood with her, while J. stumbled off to try and catch one. (Unsuccessfully.)
My sleep these last few weeks has generally been... well, not terrible. But not glorious either. My bod continues waking up on Madrid time, making for nights of less than optimum shuteye. Except for that evening with C. and J. in the house. I had a nightlight I wanted to put into the half-bath near their room, but one of them disappeared in there, shutting the door before I could do the install. I lay down on my bed, figuring to get up, go down there as soon as I heard the door open. And fell asleep as soon as my head sank into my pillow, waking up at 4 a.m. in exactly the same position, nightlight in my right hand. Got blearily to my feet, pulled clothes off, fell back into bed, passed out immediately. Woke up four hours later, amazed, practically purring at how sweet it felt to find myself in a comfy bed after a long, deep night's sleep.
[continued in next entry]
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Stormy sky, northern Vermont:
España, te echo de menos
rws 8:08 PM [+]
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