Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
When I arrived in San Miguel last year J, my former landlord, told me that the hot weather came in May and the rains came in September. Well, July brought us some pretty strong rain storms accompanied by thunder and lightning. This month is just dark gray clouds that fairly regularly keep the ground wet. No torrents like two months ago, just a pretty constant movement in and out of rain clouds and, as I’ve mentioned previously, no one complains.
The wind is different, reminding me of pre-storm winds from New England where you had the feeling of urgency, that you should be drawing the shutters and fastening them. The clouds have changed, either blanketing everything with a mantel of gray or providing brilliant contrasts of light and shade. It’s hurricane season elsewhere and I suspect we benefit from all that dangerous energy.
There has been enough gray – five days out of seven have started off with several hours of grayness and that’s reminiscent of the San Francisco Bay Area – that Foghorn and her friends were easily heard complaining of it. I’ve grown tired of waking to the bitter and acrid accumulation of tar, arsenic and cyanide that waft by.
Another D came over for dinner last Friday night – same first name. Both of them – along with mi amiga D from Jovenes – different name – are interested in the French movie night, so that looks like it might happen after two years of thinking about it. Last night’s D is a fascinating person: she is from the Netherlands, has worked around the world, trekked in Nepal and the Dolomites, and can carry on an easy conversation about anything. We cooked a simple meal together, the first time I’ve done that since I left California a few years ago. My mind didn’t wander to the past – although it did before the evening began, when I recalled so many meals with a former partner – but while D was here I seemed able to stay in the present. I was in shock the way she prepared a tomato sauce, never having seen anyone throw the minced raw onions into the tomatoes, but it worked; she kept adding water as the tomatoes reduced and the onions absorbed the sauce. Quick and efficient.
The installation of the database for Jovenes has moved into the phase where others have begun to use it and I now become an instructor. I’ve been busy writing “how-to’s” although there’s still configuration to be done as people realize what they’d like the system to do.
This morning there were loud cheers (Viva! Viva independencia! Viva Mexico!) from the early-morning assembly, there were the bugles of uneven timbre and strength, and the play yard seemed noisier than usual. Dolores, L’s sister, has taken over for her in cleaning the house and she reported many people in the Jardin and much tequila. L’s last day was last week, and she had news that the baby will be a boy. I think both she and I were disappointed.