Rainy Friday

This has been the longest stretch of rainy weather that I can remember.  Where, I wonder, was all this last year when Lake Lanier was so low that Starboard Marina went into bankruptcy, homes on the lake were left overlooking a giant mud pit, and our plants withered day after blistering day...Well, we've certainly made up for the drought now. 

 The news is reporting flash floods, the lake is full and my plants have never looked better.  Every tree and shrub is a lush, dark green.  The three camilia plants that my husband moved last weekend are thriving in their new location. The season's last hydrangea has one gorgeous pale bloom; the pink roses and purple dahlias are so full that they are virtually begging me to cut the flowers and fill the house with color.  If it ever stops raining, I'll head outdoors and do just that.

Every day this week, I've complained about the rain. My tennis and my daughter's cheerleading practices have been cancelled or postponed and I have had a terrible case of cabin fever.  I miss sitting outside on the deck or further down in the yard at the outdoor fireplace, enjoying my coffee and the fall weather. 

But today, I'm content with the rain.

 After checking on my aging parents and taking a call from my husband, I unplugged the home phone and turned the answering machine off.  I did keep my cell phone on for emergencies, but that's it, no television, radio, or interuptions.  I looked through old cookbooks and made a list of letters to write instead of the hurried one line e-mails that I usually send. I decided to enjoy the solitude of the empty house.

My husband will fly in tonight from his weeklong trip in Texas.  Our football game for Saturday has been postponed so we have a weekend day tomorrow with no obligations or plans besides five o'clock mass and that we always enjoy.

So today I'm going to  focus on the simple pleasures of being at home, baking a cake and brownies, lighting the new candles that smell like vanilla and cider, ironing my daughter's sheets and pillowcases.  I just love the feel of pressed linens, the way the steam rises on the fabric, the fact that I can immediately see the results of my work. It's simple and old-fashioned and reminds me of my grandmother who used to iron even her towels to perfection.  I stopped ironing my towels twenty years ago. Most of all, I love the idea that my now teenage daughter still appreciates a lttle pampering now and then.  She'll smile at the sight of the brownies and hopefully, sleep peacefully on her crisp white lavender scented sheets.

That's how I'll spend this rainy Friday at home... quiet and content and very thankful.