Thunder In Early June
In my mother’s garden I had two favorite places – the corner with roses and the top of a walnut tree where I liked to climb.
From the top of the tree I had a different perspective on things. I think it helped me – I remember that things are not always what they seem to be. Perspective is crucial.
In early June when I started my summer holidays from school for three months, I spent time in the garden. I climbed to the top of the tree and let the wind swing me. I liked to see how the clouds quickly eclipsed the sky for a short time and the lightning and thunder breaking through. Then big summer rain drops rapidly falling on my face, running down the trunk, and making wet the little grassy path. I liked to see how ants hurriedly ran, but they still followed the path they trod earlier.
I rushed down the tree to the corner with roses. I had to catch that moment when the drops hit the rose petals and they stood gorgeous and flowerily proud. If the rain lasted longer then 5 minutes, the roses that bloomed for several days already would quit and rain pulled down the petals on the ground. Some roses lost the battle. They lay on the ground: still colorful – light pink and dark red. But just for the evening and the following morning and then turned brown under the sun. The sun was bad for the old roses but good for the new buds.
These two favorite places I liked. I ran to the garden, climbed the tree, waited for the rain, and rushed down and to the rose corner.
In my mother’s garden I had two favorite places – the corner with roses and the top of a walnut tree where I liked to climb.
From the top of the tree I had a different perspective on things. I think it helped me – I remember that things are not always what they seem to be. Perspective is crucial.
In early June when I started my summer holidays from school for three months, I spent time in the garden. I climbed to the top of the tree and let the wind swing me. I liked to see how the clouds quickly eclipsed the sky for a short time and the lightning and thunder breaking through. Then big summer rain drops rapidly falling on my face, running down the trunk, and making wet the little grassy path. I liked to see how ants hurriedly ran, but they still followed the path they trod earlier.
I rushed down the tree to the corner with roses. I had to catch that moment when the drops hit the rose petals and they stood gorgeous and flowerily proud. If the rain lasted longer then 5 minutes, the roses that bloomed for several days already would quit and rain pulled down the petals on the ground. Some roses lost the battle. They lay on the ground: still colorful – light pink and dark red. But just for the evening and the following morning and then turned brown under the sun. The sun was bad for the old roses but good for the new buds.
These two favorite places I liked. I ran to the garden, climbed the tree, waited for the rain, and rushed down and to the rose corner.
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