Posted by: highmountainmuse | May 4, 2009

Running wild in the rain

running wild in the rain

running wild in the rain

The first rain of the season fell upon the mountain and me, the only two legged for miles and miles in this land now spilling with life. Wild life. A celebration of life with the soft sweet soothing melody of rain. Is there any sound so beautiful as the waves from the sky sweeping across the grateful land? How I long for the rain after the season of bright and  white and harsh and cold. To hear the tapping on the metal roofs, the smell of the musky soil so purely refreshed from the falling water, the languid movement of the heavy clouds, rolling and wrapping themselves down the sides of the mountain, subtle and subdued visions and views.  The mountain blends together in shades of green and grey.

 

No one but the rain to tell me not to, and she lets me be me. Lets me run wild and free. And so I do. I run around the ranch spreading seeds and manure, picking up objects buried for months beneath the oppressive white, I’m getting the most of this rain, I enjoy it to the fullest, find plenty to do to keep me out in it.  There’s no time to cook to talk, to dress in a proper way. And no one here to care, to judge, to notice.

 

I could sing and shout like the coyote and  throw back my head to let the soft wet spray cover my face as the trickle from my hat pours off behind me. I could run like the deer and be free and splash in the little pools forming in the pasture without fear of unapproving eyes, tisk-tisk voices searching, digging so deep to find fault.

 

There is no fault in this rain.  Only cleansing. Pure and simple.  Untamed and liberated.

 

Running wild in the rain. Away from the fears the failures the family ties, tangled behind us like the string of a kite. Or the rope that binds the falcon to the ground.

 

Ah, but to run in the rain. Because for no other reason than we can. Our legs carrying us like wings. Up and away, yet never more grounded. Kick up our heels in the pure exhilaration that explodes with the warm wet wild rain. The mountain lets lose and bursts free. Here alone for first rain of the year.

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Responses

  1. YOUR WRITINGS ARE MY ONLY CONNECTION WITH A LOST BUT BETTER LIFE NOW EVEN MORE THAN EVER . MY WIFE AND I TALKED ABOUT HOW PEACEFUL IT WOULD BE .I SPENT ALL NIGHT LAST NIGHT THINKING ABOUT OLD TIMES . MY WIFE PAST AWAY LAST NIGHT SO WE WILL NEVER SEE THE MOUNTAINS AND CATTLE AND WILD HORSES AGAIN TOGETHER .EVEN AFTER 37 YEARS TOGETHER SHE TALKED ABOUT GOING BACK TO THE MOUNTAINS .MAYBE NOW HER HEALTH PROBLEMS ARE OTHER IF I GO SEE OUR MOUNTAINS SHE WILL BE WITH ME AND SEE WHAT SHE LOVED WITH ME .MY RESPONCE MAY BE A LITTLE OFF YOUR STORY BUT YOUR WRITINGS MEAN A LOT TO ME AND HER IM SURE
    SHE WILL LOOK OVER MY SHOULDER AND READ THEM WITH ME .KEEP UP YOUR MUSE

  2. Don,
    I am at loss of words, but not of tears.
    I don’t know what to say, wiser words will come to me later.
    In the meanwhile, please just know you are not alone.
    I am sorry…
    Gin

  3. Don, I am writing in tears at the thought of your tremendous loss. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers and that you have lots of friends even if we have never met in person. May the God who created the beautiful mountains bless you with comfort and peace.

    “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

  4. Your writings are beautiful and so moving Gin. And I think it is not a coincidence that Don would find comfort in your words. Our thoughts and prayers are with you Don. What a great great loss you are feeling. My heart aches for you my friend.

    ” Jesus wept.”

  5. Don, my heart goes out to you. I am so sorry. It sounds like you and your wife had a very special relationship. I think a trip to the mountains is in order for you. Let the tears flow, God will catch every one. He feels your pain and weeps with you. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  6. Don, I know we’ll never understand your loss and how it effects you. We try, we care, we hope that helps, but we will never feel what you do. I remember when you wrote about the loss of your dog and your daughter, and I understood how you felt. I think trying to understand how we feel, how to handle the pain, confusion, loss, and relief inside of us is not an easy thing to do. Just know you got lots of folks here caring about you. Reach out and write when you can. We’ll be thinking of you so much.

  7. Thank you for the rain…and the comfort of your soul running wild.

    Keep on…

    (and strength, hope, peace to Don)


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