Grey Skies Are Gonna Clear Up!

Yes, I know that I’m not English, but I do so much prefer to spell “gray” with an e!

Today has been just that. Grey. It’s one of those foggy, drizzly, chilly days in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia that my mom would have called “bleak”. It’s a perfect day to curl up with a good book, watch a movie, or if you’re like my friend, Bri, you’re probably more inclined to work a jig-saw puzzle. Okay, she actually doesn’t like puzzles, but I do (in small doses).

Do you know what I love doing on days like this? Going for walks. I’m not sure if it’s because the world looks so monochromatic, or if it’s because everything seems so stark and tangible. The wind, the rain, the very air you breathe is seen and heard and felt. As my little brother once mused: “It’s almost like you can feel the age of the earth.” It makes me feel so small to walk, with quieted steps, through the soggy leaves and to see the trees looking stately and dignified as they loom through fog. I stop and take notice of the things around me as if I’ve never seen them before. The raindrops dangling and finally dripping from the leaves and branches, the color of the mud, the moss-covered logs, the rocks, it all looks different on a foggy, winter’s day. The earth feels not smaller, but closer. I am reverent and quiet and feel comforted, happy, and safe just being surrounded by the elements. It’s crazy what a change in the weather can do to a girl, huh?

And, honestly, probably my favorite thing to do on days like this is to go to antique stores. I usually like to drag my little sister along. Our favorite shop is a large, red building that looks like a barn and Antiquer’s Mall, just down the road, is a close second. The people working in these places have things piled up and tucked away, and going there is like rummaging through an attic. I don’t have to buy anything (although I often do), I just like to look at everything. And by everything I mean everything. The books, furniture, dishes, clothing (I have a slight obsession with vintage clothing and sewing patterns), jewelry, tools, luggage, sheet music, records, toys, lunch boxes, etc., it all has a story to tell; it fascinates me.

I guess what all of this boils down to is this: rainy days stimulate my mind. My brother might give a sigh of relief to know that I have a mind to stimulate, but nevertheless it’s a fact. While some may grumble about it being cold and wet, I can’t help smiling because there’s so much to do, see, learn, and love about a rainy day!

Memories Are Made of This

I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I've been listening to a Canadian radio station this week. What's wrong with that, you may very well be asking yourself? Absolutely nothing....except its target listeners are the over fifty crowd. But what can I say? Oldies soothe my soul. I get to hear Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Elvis, The Beach Boys, The Four Seasons (just to name a few), and sometimes they even throw in a little Billy Joel. Plus, that station plays old-time radio shows! Why do I find so much pleasure in these things? Well, aside from the obvious answer, which is: "I'm a little weird", it reminds me of my childhood because we were raised on old music and classic movies.

In fact, growing up, my siblings and (dare I say it?) I were just about the coolest kids on the planet. No foolin'. We really were. Well, at least in my mind. Sure, we could be real pains-in-the-neck, but that comes with being a kid (unfortunately some people seem never to grow out of this). We used to build forts in the woods, make mud pies, have tea parties (with water, or if we were feeling spunky we'd use Kool-Aid), swing from vines like Tarzan, make icecream out of snow, play figure games, build blanket tents in the living room (much to Mom's dismay), play baseball, make movies, record radio shows, argue like crazy, and stick together like glue and paper.

Do you know what the best part of all of this is? We still do. Stick together, I mean. My brothers and sister are, quite literally, my best friends. Sometimes I sit and earnestly ponder what I could have done to warrant having so many wonderful people in my life, but it baffles me. I do know that each of them, in their own way, inspires me to want to be a better person.

So, yes, I do love old music. I like the sound. I like the beat. I like to sing along with it. But mostly, I like it because, in a very round-about way, it reminds me of the people that I love the most. And that can never be a bad thing, right?