On the Bay

Drop-ins at the Bay,

Laugh and Play Pitter-patter,

Welcome intrusion.

Last night I decided that using borrowed images, or upcycling my own (which I’ve done here) is about all I can handle at the moment. Besides my old laptop looking tired, programs are running WAY to slow lately. This one’s an old photo from South Texas, jazzed up with new effects.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I only have so much patience when it comes to waiting for my hard drive to catch up with me. I may seem nice, but last night I was cussing like a sailor. I’ve had it!

Maybe it’s my laptop, or maybe it’s the internet, but I refuse to watch that little blue wheel of death spin around anymore. It’s time to give Photoshop a rest. I’ll be shopping for a new PC in May, so—until then—I’m going to focus on my lifestyle changes, journaling, and some creative writing.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going!

Written for Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: Bay & Play

Rain Dance

You are a melody,
A soft pitter patter,
A gentle good night,
Causing dark thoughts to scatter.
You are a symphony,
A marching band’s cry,
Snare drums & symbols,
A parade marching by!
A flash upon high,
Bass drums echoing low,
Earth praises your gift,
Rivers once again flow.
From foggy panes,
I watch you perform,
Our spirits connect,
You are my perfect storm.

—Endless Rivers—

The “R” word was such a breeze. I LOVE Rain. With a passion!

When I was young, I had a lot of stuffed animals. I’d bring them to bed with me at night. If I had trouble sleeping I’d pretend there was a storm outside, and that I needed to protect them. I would call roll to make sure no one was missing, and then I’d tell them not to worry—they’d be safe with me under the covers. That little game made me feel so cozy inside.

Believe it or not, I think about that game whenever it rains at night and I feel that warmth all over again. The child inside never dies!

Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed “R,” and I’ll see you soon for “S.”

I made an executive decision this morning. Rather than fretting over my featured images I’ll be recycling old forgotten ones. This “Bird in the Rain” is from 2017. I hope it makes you feel cozy inside!

Peace & Love!
—Janet

On the Streets

Urban sidewalk

A hidden gem after the rain

Beauty can always be found

You just need to look

With your heart

Open

*

Balance

Rain taps the window,

Inviting us out to play,

Childlike dreams return,

Cares melt away in each drop,

Balance is being restored.

—Janet

Written for Your Daily Word Prompt: Inviting, & RDP Tuesday: Balance

Rain is like macaroni & cheese to me. It’s my comfort weather. The fire goes on, blankets get piled high, and I have an excuse to stay in bed with a good book (guilt free!). A day like that is a great way to restore balance.

I wanted to share some exciting news about school. After working as an unpaid graphic design intern for two semesters, I’m going to be official this semester. I will actually get paid for my work!

The Monsoon

—Photo Memories

This photograph was taken when I lived in a mobile home for a few short months, in a town called Catalina… in Arizona. It’s about 20 miles or so from Tucson, and those are the Santa Catalina Mountains in the distance.

My best guess is that I took it a little over ten years ago, and probably with a cellphone. There were actually a handful of old images that I found, that would probably qualify for the Word of the Day Challenge—breathtaking, but I wanted to use this one because of what breathtaking means to me.

One of the things I remember the most about Catalina is being outside in the middle of a sunny afternoon, blue skies above, and hearing the thunder start to build in the distance. It was faint at first, and if you followed its echo you could see the dark and ominous cloud billowing in the distance.

The sky would begin to darken, ever so slightly, and gusts of wind would send whirls of dust through the air. Lightning would crackle through the clouds, as if trying to escape the gloom, and the thunder would become louder with each bolt.

I loved to sit on the patio and watch as the monsoon cut the landscape into two, right in front of me, and then suddenly it would be on me, and it would pour. The sound of the rain, pounding down on the metal roof, was like a melody to me—it was hypnotic—and I was never without a smile when the storm hit.

Then as quickly as it came, the monsoon would move on, ready to entertain the next eager spectator. The sun would come out from its hiding place… and the sky would be bluer than blue.

That is what breathtaking means to me.

—Janet

Peace & Love!

Rainy Days

Trees, by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast.

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray.

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair.

Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.