Today it is raining hard, the kind of rain that hammers on the roof. there is nothing gentle about it.
In some ways this makes things easier- there is no question of a hike, it is no fun to hike in hard cold rain. There is no question of yard work.
Leaves and acorns and pine needles are everywhere, fallen, falling, thrown down by the rain. Rain like this hurries fall, and that makes me feel achy. wait! please! slow down! I want to beg. Each day is so different, this tree green one day, then nearly afire with color, then bare. Some trees hold all colors green and gold and orange and red, some trees just flame in one hue. The tiniest maple in the back clearing has just one speckled golden leaf left. I do not want this to go by so quickly, I want to savor the miraculous evolution of colors before we retreat into the season of texture and brown bareness, before the snow comes and softens everything.
The house feels close since the rain has come in all night with wind that has soaked the screens. Water stretches across the spaces in the fine wire mesh, a million tiny lenses that scramble light into abstraction.
The rain comes in waves-- it is not steady enough to not notice. It pours and lessens. Each shift and change pulls my attention. When it rains, I can hear cars passing on the road which I usually cannot. So my attention goes there too, to an unaccustomed sound. Right now there is quiet.
I am making tea and the cat is asleep on a magazine on the sofa.
This morning was my last progesterone, thank god. My body wants to have a period so very much, and it will- today, tomorrow. The clinic is hoping for tomorrow. I admit, in many ways I am hoping for today. I know that all we are doing with all of this ART is intentional messing with our bodies, making more of this, less of that, holding things off, speeding them up. And a lot of the time I wish we could just somehow support what is, support what our bodies are doing or want to do.
And I am thinking of something that beloved Sprogblogger wrote about a few days back, something I'd already been thinking about,
so many folks I started this journey with are having their babies. Magsy, a little bit of something, strong blonde, for the flavor.... and others who have gotten pregnant since- baby smiling in back seat, michele, have had their babies as well (early! but safely!).... others are getting close Elle (baby bunts) is almost at 37 weeks and onwardsandsideways who cycled with me the month I got pregnant is in week 30. I would have been too. And oh that is hard. And so many others are on their way.
As I wrote on Sprog's blog, while I celebrate these successes, and I honestly sincerely wholeheartedly do, I want to be on that side too. There are a few of us left still from those beginning days, still wondering and hoping and trying and waiting and praying. And yeah, that sucks rocks.
This vacation week is not passing slowly, I want it to. To have as much as I can I get up early considering how much I love sleeping. I stay up later than I should, until my eyes are closing.
I spent yesterday with my mom which was pure joy
and last night I sat at the kitchen island and painted the cover of an ugly battleship gray journal and made a joyful mess. I did not panic when it got ugly, just kept painting until it was ok and I felt it was done. I am happy with it, imagine I may screw around some more with the back cover. Delighted to work without worry, knowing I can paint it over if I need to. And it is cool that it does not look like anyone else's, it looks like mine.
I do not like this part, I think, looking at a deep dark blue that I love but that is in the wrong place... maybe I will paint it over and try again.
So much of life does not allow that, or does not seem to. Sometimes something subtle makes the difference, not a obliteration, just a softening. And I wonder as the sky goes black and the rain comes down hard again--where else can I soften today?