God Loves A Rainy Day

What's a wild turkey like you doing in a place like this??

God loves a rainy day, and I do, too. Here on the mountain it has steadily poured since before sunrise. There's a heavy fog hanging over the trees obscuring the nearby peaks. Days like this I wish this house had a tin roof. I'm trying to talk Sis into having one on the addition, but it looks like no go. Rain on a tin roof is a glorious sound. If you've never experienced that, go find one the next time it rains and sit under there awhile on your own. Leave the TV, newspaper, and cell phone alone. Just get comfortable, sit quietly and listen. Let some thoughts come to you, look out at the tree trunks, black with rain, watch the raindrops fall from the eaves to the ground....ah, now there's serenity. With the raging pace of this world we do well to find some peace here and there. And rain on a tin roof helps.

Me? I look out from this nice old oak desk on the 3rd floor over the double row of maples that leads up the hill to the big front porch, and on over at the fog-shrouded wood on a nearby hill. Between me and the hill are many trees and a steady row of giant raindrops coming straight down off the eaves. This is a loud rain, yet it's one of those sounds that adds a feeling of peace and comfort, almost like a soft blanket of sound. Gee, I have macaroni and cheese and stewed tomatoes cooking in my mind...I expect to hear my mom's voice calling up the winding stairs asking if I want some homemade chocolate chip cookies and a big glass of cold milk. That won't happen - she died in 1984 - but it's just one of those feelings this kind of weather brings. It's time to batten down the hatches and prepare for the sudden onset of fall! The leaves here are already beginning to turn. The nights are sharp and just the other night I had both the woodstove and the fireplace cranked up, another of the most comforting things in my world.

Just a few days ago I was gettin ready to go to Lodi for Pickin' in the Pasture and I looked over the porch railing and saw about 14 turkeys sashaying around in the morning rain. I caught my breath and ran for my camera, in a quiet sort of way. I inched toward the flock (?) and marvelled as they seemed to take absolutely no interest in me and went about bobbing their heads as they pecked at worms or whatever lay in the grass. Closer and closer, and still they held their ground. I became bolder and soon was within maybe 12 feet of them. They casually made their way to some "light" woods nearby, past the hemlocks lining the hill and through some lush fern, down a bank and across a field, then over an old drystone wall into my neighbor's yard. I followed them every step, then went down a treacherous bank and up the dirt road to Sis's. Coming across the recently mowed yard, still reveling in the beauty of these wild turkeys, I stepped right into a woodchuck hole. Mind I sprained my ankle more than 2 months ago and it hasn't been right since. The same foot slipped firmly into this hole, which was quite a bit smaller than my foot, and lodged there. I sat down in the sodden grass and had to yank my foot out and it did not feel very nice at all. 'Course this is my clutch foot, and I was already all loaded up for Lodi, so I spent some 160 miles screeching and screaming all the way through the mountains as I repeatedly had to depress the clutch when shifting gears. Next time I have to sprain my ankle I'm gonna sprain the right one.

Never mind, one good thing: I didn't stay up all night at the festival going around to the jam sessions. No, I hobbled back to my truck as my friends tossed affectionate nicknames such as "Gimp" my way, and went to bed right after the show was over. Most sleep I've ever had at a festival! Anyway, it was a great joy to follow a bunch of turkeys through the rainy woods.