Climbing Trees In Rainstorms

This afternoon it rained... first time in over a month.
I almost forgot the scent of it.. the way it feels in September when it comes in sweet and cool.
I had to celebrate; I bought a bottle of wine for the occasion.
Stripped down to my shorts and took off into the storm.


You think to yourself half-way up a tree in a storm, that maybe you are crazy..
Maybe this climb, with a bottle of Merlot in one hand and a glass in the other is the opposite of a good idea.
One branch, two, three branches.. higher. Up up.
By branch four, you realize you are indeed crazy, and there is no sense in faking sanity. Even for the sake of appearances.
Sanity is an annoyance most of the time anyway. It always clings to my shoulders like a wet jacket.. one I wish I could take off and leave draped over a branch somewhere, and never come back for.
Right now, my arms clutching branches twenty feet up, I'm happy to leave sanity on the ground. (Let him stay down there for all I care)

Finally, I'm in the tree. Pressed against the trunk and a sturdy limb. Nine branches up.
The rain is coming down thick.. drowning out sound.. roaring as it splashes off the wide fat leaves. I feel like an orangutan in the rain forest. A obscenely wobbly orangutan with a bottle of wine.
I wrap my legs around the branch below me and pour myself a glass..
As I sip, I notice how the rain drops feel cool against my skin.. and how the wine feels warm, almost gentle. Sweet red goodness!
The tree sways gently. I can't see out very well.. I am surrounded by layers of thick green leaves.. and beyond the leaves are millions of raindrops. The rain saturates every pore of my body.. my eyes, my nose, my mouth.. it gets in my glass of wine. It is a wild feeling to be soaking wet.. and to be very high off the ground. I laugh at that thought.
Its probably the wine.. but I start to sing. I don't know why but it feels right. I sing about the tree. I sing about the rain.. to the rain, like its someone I know. I sing to my body. To my ears.
The rain is so loud I can barely hear myself.. but what does it matter.
this is a celebration after all!


When we leave a day behind.. I wonder what it thinks about us?
Is it glad to be finally done with us... or sad to see us go?
I wondered that as I was climbing down.




Andrew Tipton