A terrific storm banged and rattled the house last night. There was thunder, there was lightning, there was wind. There was very little rain.

I mowed yesterday. Mostly from force of habit. No rain means no grass to speak of, only the little weedy plants and they’re not that tall.

I got a call yesterday. It was Matt from Strait Music. A guitar I wanted to check out had arrived. I’d forgotten all about it. Because the interest in the guitar was expressed in September of 2020.

I’m going to talk about the pattern I’ve seen as I dealt with my wife’s death in August 2020 and how it came about. This isn’t a road map. This is my journey.

Life is full of patterns that are self-similar across different scales.

A day of running and jumping is in the books. The granddaughter finished ninth in the long jump, her 4X100 team finished 11th and missed the finals, but her 4X400 finished third and will run again today.

Walked outside this morning to clouds and a little drizzle. But it’s only a hint of rain, nature’s way of flirting. We’ll see what comes of it.

You might say I had a dream last night. Or you might say I had a thought in a dreamlike state. At any rate, an idea came to me as I lay in bed.

We got more rain yesterday morning, but it slacked off early and stayed partly cloudy. We got right at sixth tenths of an inch over the last two days. Not a record setting rain, but useful.

I was in Fredericksburg yesterday when the clouds opened up and the bottom dropped out.

I’m going to gripe about the tools of my trade.

I was asked yesterday if I was an artist. I instinctively said, no. Then thought, wait, I’m a writer. Maybe that counts.

Well, let’s see what part of my psyche I’d like to explore today. No turmoil to speak of, although I wish the wind would stop blowing. Seriously, what’s the rush? Where’s it going in such a hurry?

I did it again, found another memory cloud. This one was on purpose. I was killing time yesterday in preparation for my granddaughter’s area track meet.

I ran into a memory cloud yesterday. There was a brief pang of loss followed by a small pulse of tears.

It was a wet rainy day by the river, but in a year of drought and burn bans, a wet rainy day by the river is still a good day.

It’s a gray morning on the river, but any morning on the river is a good morning and it’s supposed to clear up later today, so all is not lost.

Another holiday weekend is in the books. Of course, this was a big one, a major Christian holiday, and I suppose it remains to be seen how everyone lives the message.

Easter. We tend to think of it as a single day, Sunday, but it’s actually a multi-day, multi-week contemplation of death and resurrection.