Soul of an Irish poet

This is what Kevin likes 

Fog in my front yard in Washington

My brother, Kevin, lives in sunny San Diego. I live in rainy (half the year, at least) western Washington. Kevin loves fog and rain and hates it when he has to deal with day after day of sun and heat. I get depressed when it's rainy and gray and come alive when the sun makes everything glow. So we're constantly volunteering to swap weather with one another.

This is what I like

Japanese maple in the sun by my door last week

Sunshine makes me happy!

The other day, Kevin was bemoaning the fact that the rain and fog promised by the weatherman didn't materialize and he had to deal with yet another sunny day in paradise. I volunteered once again to swap, and I liked his reply so much that I asked permission to put it here:

"I guess I’m just a sad Irish poet at heart. 

Watch the dark and dreary skies

through rivulets of rain running down the foggy windows,

while laboriously dragging leaden pen over pitted, yellowed parchment

to opine about the trials and tribulations of the 

human condition.

Then head over to Patrick’s place with the 

potato-whiskey jug

to drown out the bitter taste of another gray day." 

                               

                                                                  -- My brother, Kevin

Then he added: "Modern man can flip on the solar-spectrum lights and work indoors, log onto the blog and bitch about missing Hawaii since that last vacation, and order out for delivery.  It must have really sucked to be a potato farmer in Ireland back then."

Why, is that a green Irish potato on our Washington beach? No, it's just a rock and I took its picture last week because the green stood out so splendidly against the gray stones.

It all came together last week -- the sun and the rain and the Irish and their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow -- when I spotted this rainbow over the bay behind our house. That's the Bay of the Green Potato Rocks.

Have a colorful day!