That I have different objectives than most of the people I come across is an abstraction that doesn’t usually manifest itself in an easily observable manner. But this Friday, as I worked my rounds in a large office building , this fact was illuminated like the score lit up on an electronic board: Everyone vs. Tamara
“Be sure to do all your outside tasks early tomorrow,” one woman kindly counselled. “It’s supposed to rain all day.”
Others, grumbled such things as: “We were planning a hike.” “Now I’ll never get that grass cut.” “Why does it have to rain on the weekend?”
I assured all we needed the rain — that ground was frighteningly dry, that we needed to get caught up with rainfall before the real heat came and stayed. But their irritation would not be assuaged.
Rather than being doused by the prospect of the forecasted rain, all day my enthusiasm was growing like . . . well, like a morel, waiting just below the surface for cooling temperatures and gentle moisture. This morning these folks may still be glaring outside their windows, wondering if there will be a break in the raindrops (much like my cat Bandit, I imagine), but I’m vibrating like the green of the newly budded leaves, anticipating the mysteries the forest will unfold the next time I make my trek.
Some times being an oddball totals up as a loss. But this weekend, I feel like I’m on the winning side.