we both woke early today. we listened to the rain fall all night long, which seems an odd sound when one lives in a high desert. while in bed, thought the outdoors must be full of flooded arroyos.
almost always, when I listen to these long rains, I think about Marquez' village of Macondo, and how it once rained for four years, eleven months and two days....leaving everything a morass of dead branches and rotting flowers. it is something I'd think about in Kansas too, while wondering if my old wood-frame house was leaking somewhere. imagining how it would beautifully, horribly rot under four years of rain.
but looking outside in the morning light, saw that the dry land was soaking up all the rain. pulling it into the valley's dirt and all the piles of fallen leaves, leaving a few puddles to walk in.
snow is falling up higher. our wood stove keeps us cozy, which we are both comforted to discover. I'm still surprised when the fire goes out, due to my own negligence, which I'm working on... tending a fire takes constant mindfulness.