Don't Get Robbed

A groan spread through my body as I woke up this morning and heard the sound of rain, I had other plans for this day. February is the month that seems to pass about as quickly as waiting for ice to melt in the freezer. The hope of sunny days and the return to the garden is where I fix my hope. It is my goal, the ribbon at the end of the finish line, my reward for enduring the long, dark winter months. I often wonder why we even celebrate the beginning of a new year on January 1st. In the dead of winter, nothing seems to be new or beginning but rather quiet and hibernating. Wouldn't March 1st be a lovely day to start a new year? With all of the new life and new blooms just getting underway, it feels perfect. While we are at it, let's change all of the seasons to begin on the first of their respective months instead of three weeks in. I understand it currently coincides with the equinox and solstice but I'm just not that patient.

I rolled over and pulled the quilt up over my shoulders for extra warmth and snuggled myself back in. The rain continued its pitter-patter against my bedroom window with a soft, rhythmic song that almost lulled me back to sleep. WHOOSH!!! My eyes bounced open as the rain changed in intensity and lashed out against the side of my house. The wind began to gently blow now, causing the leaves high on the eucalyptus tree to respond with a soft percussion as they rustled delicately together. I turned now toward the window, but stayed snuggled down on this cold, drizzly morning and closed my eyes once more. I listened this time. I listened to the melodic ebb and flow. I listened to the crescendo and decrescendo of the winds and and the rain drops. I began to hear the changing tempo, the addition of new sounds and suddenly I was listening to a symphony. In my mind, I began to conduct my backyard orchestra. With my baton, I directed the percussion, the winds, and the brassy undertones of branches and birdhouses as they bounced together. I commanded the cadence, momentum, and volume, directing my baton toward the leaves or the winds or rains and branches, as together they offered up both  harmonies and solos, culminating in a brilliantly played concerto. The piece finally slowed and ended with calm, as the soothing notes and triads one by one faded away into silence. 

I realized how easily I could have wasted this experience with groans and grumbles. How often do I miss the good that is right in front of me simply because I have something else planted in my mind? While I am brooding, I don't recognize joy. While I am groaning, I don't notice the tenderness of my lover's sweet kiss. While I am dissatisfied, I over-look friendships, and in my grumblings I might allow myself to be robbed of a delightful morning concert. Let each moment embrace you, with appreciation, awareness, and attentiveness, void of grumbling and groaning lest you be robbed.