It is cloudy on the day I begin writing this post. A song from a Classical playlist sings through the speakers in the background as the motor of the air conditioner plays its own tune. The former is much more entertaining than the latter, but not always.
I stare at the grass seeds atop their stems blowing in the wind of an atmosphere destabilizing; the current song is exhilarating.
The leaves are full on most trees here, but there are many that I am afraid might die due to the drought and the last cold snap that caught them right in the middle of bud break. A single turkey hen walks past the window as the swallows skim the top of the fields like stealth aircraft. Frosty the dog pants in the background. He was doing his best to chase the swallows a short time ago.
The windows vibrate a little as thunder sounds in the distance. A new song plays from the playlist; it sounds rather ominous. Sprinkles of water fall across the tin roof with a sound that could reach that of loud white noise should enough rain come down. The direction of the winds change, at first in bursts then in steady flows. Sometimes the edges of the tin roof slice through the winds making a howling noise. This is a time of the year that I both enjoy and fear, for storms renew and destroy.
As the current song winds down, the sprinkles stop. The winds slow down and it gets a little brighter outside. This signals another song, something much brighter. It isn’t always that random songs fit perfectly with life, but sometimes the two are inseparable.