It was a lovely day. I sat out on the balcony with my coffee this morning. The sky was clear and crisp, a little chilly at 50, but it was warming up. I wanted to gather some firewood -- downed wood that will just rot if I leave it there. It was just across the river and up the steep bank a bit. I decided to dig out my boots just to be safe.
If you know me at all, you know I only wear shoes when I have to. And boots? Hardly ever. But years ago I scored these authentic military boots from the leftover wardrobe of a movie production. It was "The Lucky Ones," and apparently Tim Robbins and I wear the same size.

I laced 'em up tight for the ankle-breaker, slip'n'slide, rocks-in-the-river hike. They have great ankle support on the steep incline too. I grabbed my ropes and pullies and parked my truck nearby, and off I went. I had a plan, and all went well and, really, that is not the point of the story. However, suffice to say, I ran some rigging and flew the logs over the river. Using pullies and redirects, my truck and 120 feet of rope, I zig-zagged the logs to the landing. One-man logging. I never had to pick up and carry any logs, but I had to keep walking back and forth to my truck 120 feet away.
The barefoot guy hiking back and forth and back and forth in army boots? You can laugh, but don't point. Let's keep it between us.

When I came back in the house, I double-checked the weather to see if I could leave my big rope outside. It was clear as a bell, in the high 50s, and would be so until tomorrow afternoon when it would get into the 60s. Good to go. I left my window down, left my rope coiled up by the truck, and took a nap.
When I woke up an hour later, it was dark. I heard noise outside, but I didn't think much of it. I thought it might be coming from the neighbors' yard. Next thing you know, I get a lightning strike, two claps of thunder, and then it rained for like 15 or 20 minutes. Of course I had to run out there, roll up the window and retrieve the rope, so I grabbed my big yellow slicker that I leave hanging by the door.
It was so cool out there. The rain was coming straight down, so I could stand there in my underwear and not get soaked. I got my toes in the mud *wiggle wiggle* and I did drop the hood to get rain on my head, which felt great. It was the same temperature as the air, sorta, tepid even.
It stopped raining for a quiet second. Then the trees started raining, drippity-drip-drip. There are dry leaves all over the yard, so the sound was incredible. It smelled like the earth and sky and just a hint of my fire. It was dark and sparkly in the yard and up in the trees from my big outside light. I felt insignificantly small in the grand scheme of things, and I was so glad to have not slept through it.
On the way back in, I grabbed half a cantaloupe from the kitchen. When I took a bite, with the smell of that outside air from my open door and that just ripe delicious fruit and its sweet scent, it smelled like 8-year-old me 300 miles east of here in Walden on the wicker chaise lounge on my granny's screened porch in the rain.
Honestly, it felt like some of those same raindrops hit me again today, like a big ol' hug and a wet, sloppy kiss from Granny.

Delightful!

I think I'll sleep well tonight.