Sunday, March 30, 2008

Rain in the city

The grays of clouds heavy with water, lead, pines gray to dove gray has been the main color outside of my 12th floor perch. The verdigris of aged coper roofs are just a touch brighter. Walking the city there are gray shiny slick cobblestones, dark puddles, reflections of sky on earth. Some women are impervious to the weather, their hair always smooth, their shoes never muddy... Mine are, my hair frizzes in the moist air. Dogs smell of wet dog. Plants seem happy, the city ivy climbs up with new young shoots, the magnolia and prunus flower and cherry trees bloom. The yellow berberis gives off a sweet evening smell on a city corner. I wonder how to attract birds at my balcony. I would love the blackbird to sing to the world from there or when the swallows arrive have them build their mudnest there. Crows and seagulls, different types of city pigeons is what I see most in this wettest month since 1833 when they started to monitor the incidents and fluctuating fickleness of the weather.


  1. You will have to wait for the swallows to come till the Queen Elisabeth Contest starts: you'll see, they will be there.

  2. There are several ways to attract birds to your aerie.
    You could provide small, enclosed bathing areas, tiny twelfth-floor ponds surrounded by dense shrubbery for privacy.
    Or you could offer platters of beignet crumbs, or other bird-bite sized pastries.
    Or you could learn the mating calls of the species you desire to entice, have a bird costume custom-made for yourself, and spend delightful hours on your sky-patio, chirping away, if you are psychologically equipped to handle the frustration caused by your rejection of the advances of the suitors (or conquests) you attract.

  3. What about men in the rain? All women's concerns, frizzy hair, muddy shoes, the wet dog smell, pale beside the real terror men of a certain age feel when caught in a deluge.
    Can you imagine the thunderous roar of incessant water drops exploding on a bald pate? Many cases of dementia are induced by capless, hatless males caught in a surprise storm? And the wet dog smell? Pshaw, it's nothing compared to the disgusting stench released when the sodden, deluged male sheds his soaked-through leather wing-tips, peels off his dripping socks, and the stinking molecules of his seldom-washed feet fill the air.
    You women have the always-present glass ceiling to protect you, men are often damaged by their penchant for exposure.