Singing in the Rain?
07/09/2010 11:47 amWALKING IN THE RAIN
I know that I owe a part II to a short series I started, however, I decided this morning to write about something that is really important: my walk a little while ago with my “little guy” … Virgil.
Rainy days have fascinated me for as long as I have memory of anything in my life. I especially like what happened today: getting caught in an unexpected and hard shower. It's funny, but typically I see people running for cover whenever a rain begins and I always wonder why? It's certainly not going to hurt anyone and it can even be fun.
I took him this morning to granddaddy long-legs spider park. I suppose it has a different name, but the one I gave it is more apropos; besides, I don't know its real name. There is also a state park in Charlestown that I only know as “tick park.” It is an absolute impossibility to spend more than ten minutes in any area of that park without being covered with ticks. That is why I prefer walking Virgil in granddaddy long-legs spider park.
From the beginning to the end of the first trail you start down it is not possible to look on the ground and not see these little spiders crossing the ground in numbers that are impossible to keep count. I once stopped to count what I saw crawling on the ground in only a 60 second period: then I figured that they must be crawling in similar numbers all over the park. Based on how long it takes me to cover the three trails I tried to estimate the size of the park. If I was even close in my mind to the size of the park and the number of spiders that are covering the ground it was an amazing number. It's funny, but both Virgil and Stella totally ignores these little guys.
Though I have always loved rain, for the life-of-me I couldn't remember if I ever liked jumping in puddles? Two of my older grandsons will go well out of their way to find a good puddle to splash in. Since it was just he and I and no one else around to question why I would do something like that... I found some good puddles to splash through. It wasn't bad, but all that I really got out of it was wet feet.
Virgil's a trooper. Mostly he never seems to care one way or the other what the conditions are like outside. He neither tried to find shelter on the trail, nor did he seem to seek out the rain... he just walked until some scent would catch his attention and he would go off-trail to investigate. The only two types of weather that terrifies and seems to exhilarate are thunder (with lightning) and snow... in that order. He trembles all-over at an approaching thunderstorm (in that regard he is far better than any barometer at telling me when a storm is coming) and he loves bounding and plunging into and through deep snow. He was a treat to walk and watch play last year with all of the snow that we had.
In just a matter of a few minutes this morning my shirt and shorts were plastered to my skin and water dripped from my hair. I looked down at Virgil and I noticed that (peculiarly) as he gets older whenever the top of his head gets very wet, it turns as black as his muzzle. I don't know why this never happened when he was a younger... this look makes him even more handsome as a dog. In dog years he would be nearing retirement and soon would be eligible to draw a Social Security check: yet, his chest is still deep, and thick, and he is lean in the haunches. He has aged well and gracefully.
A deep forest-green is my favourite color, and this morning and at times on the trail there was no color but green in every direction that I turned. All-in-all it was a marvelous walk. At one point as I left the trail and was nearing my car I thought about Gene Kelly and his famous, “I'm singing in the rain.” I thought about it... really thought about it. Two things stopped me from trying... no, make it three. I didn't see any poles around, I can't sing, and I dance like Elaine Benes on Seinfeld. Other than that, I might have tried it... honest.
I want to finish this with some helpful information for all of my readers. Ponce de Leon sought for a Fountain of Youth. I believe I have found it and you need not go far to enjoy its magical benefit. Several years ago I saw an episode of Outer Limits or Twilight Zone, I'm not sure... but it was called “Kick-the-Can.” It centered around a home for the aged. An elderly black man joined the ranks of those already living there and only waiting day-by-day for death to overtake them. He taught those who would believe that the secret to being young was to just do the things that you did when you were young. In this case, it was a simple game of kick-the-can.
Some of the elderly refused to believe and would not join in this game that was set for the middle of the night on an appointed evening... others though cast aside their doubts and joined in the game. I will not tell you what happened. However,f you ever get a chance to see it... you won't be disappointed.
I will tell you my version of kick-the-can. The next time it rains... find an opportunity to go outside and play... don't avoid it. Do you remember what it was like when you were a child?
In this way, as the years go by and you look in the mirror and you see the inevitable crow's feet, and the graying hair, you won't mind, because you still carry a part of that child from long ago with you: now you know the secret that escaped Ponce and his buddies... because you still like to play in the rain!
You can always email me at clarkmatthews1@aol.com
posted by Robin Johnson @ 11:45 AM
<< Home