"It was a day a duck could love. For that matter the week was a duck's paradise. Dressed for the season in my long skirt, paisley wool shawl, and tea cozy hat with the red hibiscus over my left ear my feet splashed in puddles. The sensible shoes--black leather lace-ups-- answered the silly duck talk coming from the edges, "It makes no never-mind to me. For though I have no oily feathers to shed the rain, my sensible shoes are always game." I'm sure the ducks got even sillier as I twirled at the end of every city block. But by then they were out of earshot."Above me the rain today is splattering fat and abundant. The announcer on our local radio station said, "I could take a moment to tell you about the weather but if you look outside you can see it's RAINING, and will be raining until it doesn't rain anymore. And then it will either start snowing and stay that way for the next many days hear in the Great NorthRain." Aieyah.
When I wrote the medicine story, The Safety Pin Café a tale of remedy born in the imagination, it was the art of writing that turned a soggy attitude and sodden set of lungs into the bridge between. It's that place that accepts some of the reality and blows it into a bigger picture, turning skin and toes into the webbed feet of silly ducks who transport themselves through water and birth their babies on the solidity of earth. They are comfortable with both fluidity and solidity. On the radio behind me I listen to 'Aloha Friday' and the music of Hawaii. It transports, I become more fluent.
"I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding."
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