A happy accident

I got to ride as a backseat passenger in the van ride home yesterday. I'm rarely a passenger, and I'm even more rarely one that gets to chat with my daughter face-to-face and then play around with blur and light. I felt the urge to create, and fortunately, the camera was at an arm's length and my hands relatively free. This little green, gray, ivory, and pink number was sitting in the mix. It was an accident, I'll admit. Right place, right time. And just the right amount of movement.

My daughter and I arrived to a freshly scrubbed home, thanks to the good man I married. He even cleaned the floors, a task so worthy of avoiding despite the relatively small square footage of tile floor.

The rain poured all night long. Big rain drops plopping on the already green earth. Matt took the trash out early, and when I took another bag out around 9, I dodged the rain bullets, unsuccessfully. The crickets and frogs sang in chorus, the base and tenors of the night. The neighbor's cat, Frankie, with the black and white coat, was sitting forlornly in the street under the light. He cast a long shadow toward the house. If he didn't poop in our garden so regularly, I might have called him over to be my friend.

It's windy outside right now, another night of rain and cooler temperatures. We're expecting a week of this weather. I'm sitting in bed, and I have a date with Abba's Child: The cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging. I want belonging. I need to pick it up and read, but somehow it's so much easier to pick up the computer than a book. But, like the thirsty grass outside, my soul needs watering. This is a season where a whole week of watering would do me good.