This May day feels a bit more like March than nearly summer, with a cold rain. I pulled out my trusty waterproof hooded winter coat, mistakenly put away for next November. I kind of felt like Lulu, with her eyes squinting in the rain, and wished I could shake myself dry every so often. I minced along, leash in hand, in expensive sneakers, trying sensibly to avoid puddles.
Were I a sensible person, I would have continued to avoid puddles I'm not so sensible. Some people are in touch with their inner child. I AM my inner child. This child decided to embrace the rain. I jumped on every big puddle I could find delighting in the great splash as I squelched along in those wet sneakers, wishing they were red Keds.
Scotts Creek doesn't look like any creek I knew from my elementary school days in Connecticut. This "creek" is actually a tidal estuary, like the East River in New York City or the Hudson in its extreme southerly merge into Long Island Sound. The Creek empties into the Elizabeth River and into the Chesapeake Bay.
This morning it was pearly in the mist and drizzle.
A heron sat patiently on a rock, looking more like a colonial silhouette than a living creature. Right after I took this shot, he pounced on a tasty fish.
I trudge along and Brenda in the next neighborhood shouts out, "Girl, you are soaked. C'mon in and have some hot coffee!
A stately goose family floated by.
I squished on home, dog leash in one hand and a growing wet bouquet in the other,,,lagustrum, purple weeds, a glorious pinky maroon stalk of some sort, deliciously sharp and astringent-smelling rosemary growing over a fence, white blooms from an unidentified tree, and a yellow African daisy from my front yard.
Lagustrum, (also called "privet") when flowering has a faint sweet smell which reminds me of warm milk. That smell also reminds me of my dear friend Deb, who was terribly allergic to lagustrum. Nonetheless, the lovely smell reminds me of her: a charming Southern belle, a romantic, an avid reader and writer who suddenly went blind, who faced death with acceptance and gratitude for those who loved her. You'd be honored to learn about her from my old blog here: Debbie's Story
So I breathe in the rosemary and lagustrum, blink back tears for Deb and remember...