Menosophical [men-oh-soffy-cul]; the condition of waxing introspective - an occasional series on the more deep and meaningful.

This is post number 108 on 'MENO' (aka Wild YAM).  Over at MY TAKE that happened a couple of weeks back.  I had not intended to do a written blog at that point.  But as mentioned before (checkout the "filosofee" tag on the left there!), it all came upon me like a veritable flood. 

Bit like the monsoon which has finally arrived and broken the pot-boiler, steam-room, pressure-cooker weather that was here for a couple of weeks leading into it.  I know that in a few weeks there'll be someone's voice crying out for the sun again (probably mine!), but right now this is glorious.  One is made to think again of the importance of rain - the blessedness of it; the health and spirit-lifting qualities of it.  The birds have been rejoicing, their calls coming clearer, brighter, sharper - I'd swear I could hear them laughing.  Yesterday morning I stood and watched a pair of butterflies, (chocolate velvet wings highlighted with electric blue 'eye' and edged in buff), performing a ballet of such exquisite beauty, oblivious to me as they danced around my head.  Surely an expression of relief.

Meanwhile, the lads all tie their lunghi doubled up to knee-length and we lasses raise the hems of our saris.  I feel naked!  How adapted I have become to the elegance and demureness that is this most forgiving of dresses. It is easy to relate to the period romances where excitement of the senses would come from the showing of an ankle or the baring of a back.  Oh my!  How brazen the rest of the world has become.

I'll leave you with that thought and a view of my window sill.














Catch a few more drops on Tuesday's post!  (Which follows, Monday...)






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