Rainy Days are reflective days. The gondolas are covered as best can be, but they will still fill with water. Here in the gondoliers lair I am watching an endless fusilade of silver bullets exploding in glorious plumes and shock waves as they hit the water and also the ones disintegrating, dashed against the unyielding bricks of the walkways. The boats in the marina are lurching like bound people being led in the dark. Their canvas covers shiver as assorted flags wave cheerfully and triumphantly over their soaking captives.
The water in the channel is silver grey with darker patches where wind or current change the way the light hits the water. The ripples from the raindrops radiate and are swept away by the force of a thousand new arrivals who, like all the others, are home after a long journey. I see no birds except the intrepid Grebe.
We had the most amazing Fall. Warm days and cool breeze less evenings. The cold rolled in in the beginning of December. I can remember only one December when it didn't rain. It's as though God gives us a bath once a year as a Christmas present, giving us a nice cleaning and giving the plants a chance to put on their best. Rain is not good for business but as a gondolier it is important to accept things you cannot change, like the weather.
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3 comments:
brilliant writing.
Poetically accurate interpretations.
I wish I'd written that.
It's amazing what one might discover was hiding under the floorboards after eight months of no rain.
So thats where my sandwich went! Right next to the strawberry and the dehydrated anchovie.
Did you find something special Sean?
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