Last night, I did what I thought Thoreau would have wanted--I dabbled in the art of sauntering. Well, sauntering interspersed with puddle-jumping. Every once in a while, we really must pause and absorb nature. So, while a classmate of mine (who shall remain nameless), jokingly complained about the peskiness of the rain and how he would have to take his shirt to the dry-cleaners, I reminded him of Thoreau. Look at the flowers, aren't the red ones redder and the pink ones pinker? Mother Nature, sitting up on top of puffy marshmallow cloud must have looked down upon Nashville and realized we needed a bath. The leaves on the trees and bushes were shiny again. Water ricocheted off the pavement, creating mini rivers and streams in our streets. Even though my shirt was drenched and pants soaked from the ill-advised, although wonderfully refreshing puddle-jumps, I enjoyed the storm. Lightning striking down around me and moments later, her loud and boisterous sister thunder echoing across the city.
And then I come home and a friend is waiting on my doorstep--a little slug that the rain drew out from his hiding spot. I watched in awe for a few minutes while the slimy brown guy, who was clearly directionally challenged, crawled in circles. I helped him back to the grass and watched him squirm a bit in a muddy spot before he sauntered off to join his buddies.
And then I come home and a friend is waiting on my doorstep--a little slug that the rain drew out from his hiding spot. I watched in awe for a few minutes while the slimy brown guy, who was clearly directionally challenged, crawled in circles. I helped him back to the grass and watched him squirm a bit in a muddy spot before he sauntered off to join his buddies.
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