Almost a Conversation

The weather where I live has exhibited signs of bi-polar disorder as of late. One day, really hot, in the upper 90’s.
A few days later, a cold front, grey, drizzly, like my college days in Oregon.
In fact, two days ago I felt like I was holed up in my dorm room again. Restless.
The mist outside a constant presence.
My desire to do anything other than sit cross-legged on the couch was drenched by the presistent moisture on the other side of the window.

Today it is hot again.
I worked in the front yard spreading mulch in our flower beds.
The ground was hot and dry but the red mulch in the bags was still holding the moisture of the weekend rain.

I have to admit I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the little creek that runs next to our house.
She shows up every year with the first rains, usually in October or November.
She hangs around until June when the sun wins out against the clouds and then she settles into her dry little bed to sleep away the summer.
Talk about bi-polar.
At some points of the year she is scarcely noticeable.
Other times she bubbles along like she’s living the most carefree life imaginable.
But in January or so she rages
And I watch her banks rising
And wonder whether this is the year she won’t be able to stop herself
From creeping up and seeping through the floorboards
To carry me away throught the culvert to the next creek,
Then to the next creek,
And eventually to the ocean where I will rise with her into the clouds
And become the weather reseeding all of the creeks,
Including the little one that lives
For part of the year
Just on the other side of my back fence.