Fractals and Mysticism

Took Ellie to the levee today. We are expecting rain, and need exercise before the long, rainy seige predicted by the Weather Channel. She's pretty good about walking where I lead her, but obviously bears in mind that we cannot walk close to one another. MS makes me clumsy and more than once I have fallen directly on my poor little mutt. She pulls ahead, looking back for my direction. It must be confusing for her. My commands come frequently, sometimes cooing and reassuring, other times sharp and insistent. She must lead, and still obey.

Everywhere I could see fractals this morning. In the skies, in the trees and bushes, and in the flowing river. Even in Ellie's fur. Now, I know full well that everything relates to fractals, but today I drank in the moments, each and every one. The utter profusion of greenery, and especially its dynamism, its growth, was arresting. One could watch the plants growing, just as surely as we can watch the clouds billow and move across the sky.

Unfortunately, the pollen was swirling in fractal-like clouds. Despite the cool, gray breezes, or maybe because of them, we hurried home. The air is even now completely sated, full, pregnant with rain, as they say. I am looking forward to the cleansing. I will eagerly watch the pollen, catkins and seedpods, as they are washed down the streets into the Chemung River.

Our home is watertight, warm and dry, but I can still feel the heavy air. The birds are chirping less and less, and it will soon rain. Ellie sits outside, watching for pigeons and squirrels that are gradually losing interest in taunting her. My neighbor's flag flutters first in one direction, then droops, and then flutters in the opposite direction.

Right now I am content to wait in silence. I anticipate relief from the asthma, a moratorium on what will surely be an oppressively muggy summer. The years have taught me well: welcome the gloomy days. They prepare our hearts for the bright sunshine that will surely follow.

pb
Little Pond