Please.  Use your outdoor voice!

Please. Use your outdoor voice!

You would think by looking at that photo that the sky is blue and the temperature is maybe 70 degrees and we’re enjoying a lazy Indian Summer day.  Well, you would be wrong.  That photo was taken yesterday (was it only yesterday?) before the weather changed and drenched us all into autumn. 

We had to start a fire in the woodstove this morning, for goodness sake.  Sigh.  Fall must be here, for sure.  We’ve been so spoiled this September.  We’ve rarely experienced a September so balmy, so tepid, so delicious.  Let’s stiffen our backs and upper lips and tighten our resolve and remember to…open the door and walk outside!

But not before donning lots of rain gear.

One wet and soggy and puddle-filled driveway

One wet and soggy and puddle-filled driveway

So on go the rain pants and rain jacket and…the heavy winter boots.  I don’t have a pair of rain boots, and the thought of soaking a pair of sneakers in two minutes did not sound appealing.  Put the rain hood over you head and out you go.  Come on now, don’t be hesitant!  You snooze, you lose.  Get on out that door.

What a shock!  Rain pouring from the heavens, the sky a deep shade of lead.  What in the world should one do?  This suddenly reminded me of the freezing cold days last winter when I would (confession time) bring a clock outside to ensure that I stay out there for long enough.  Because the thoughts would cajole and beg, “Haven’t we been outside long enough?  Can’t we go in?”  So one must be firm with them. “No, we can not go in.  Keep walking.  Keep looking.  It’s only been ten minutes  Don’t let a little rain or cold stifle your experience.  C’mon now, quit whining.  Is it really that cold (or that rainy?  or that miserable?)”

Puddle action

Puddle action

You might think the camera would capture images of the downpour.  But no.  Every digitally-uploaded photo of rain against the garage or trees looks like it’s not raining at all.  Go figure.

Soggy leaves on soggy log

Soggy leaves on soggy log

Smiling suddenly, because I just wrote the above cutline about the leaves on the soggy log and mis-read it to say “Soggy blog”.  Which, I suppose, it is.  🙂

One of the useful things I accomplished outside was picking a) tomatoes, b) cucumbers, c) peppers and d) basil for tonight’s dinner.  Can you guess what dinner was?  Never mind, I shall tell you.  It was a garden pizza with salad and leftover corn.  The reason for mentioning the picking-venture was this (and didn’t I warn you about it?):  the fingers so quickly become frozen ice-cold appendages at the end of soggy hands.  How quickly that happens.  Even when it’s 46 degrees and not…oh what a daunting thought…32 degrees.  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.  The temperature is still in the 40’s.

One slender bleeding heart root

One slender bleeding heart root

Besides gardening, and walking to the mailbox, and wandering in the ravine behind the house, I tossed some scraps into the woods.  One of these scraps was a bleeding heart root.  We pulled up one of our overgrown bleeding heart plants yesterday and said, “Fare thee well!” The roots looked so interesting and almost mystical.  It seems like they might be medicine for some malady; who knows?  Perhaps we should Google it.  Here we have it from a possibly reliable or unreliable site (and for heavens sake, never try to use a bleeding heart root medicinally without extensive research!)  It is apparently known as the “nerve root”.

 Nerve root is  used orally for insomnia; emotional tension; hysteria; anxiety states; agitation; nervousness; and specifically, anxiety states associated with insomnia.

Nope, I’m not that agitated about the rain or cold weather.  In fact it’s kind of cozy sitting inside the house tonight listening to the rain pitter-patter on the roof and trees in our woods.  But that’s because I opened the door and walked inside.  Thank goodness that was an option today!

P.S.  for anyone else experiencing rainy weather, here’s an entertainment suggestion. Listen to NPR’s Weekend Edition.  Click here.  There are at least six stories (or more) about our beloved Upper Peninsula.  Go listen if you’d like!

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