Walking. With a Google Misfire.

3:30 a.m. Rain patters on the roof.

Morning papers. Blog posts. Emails. I flip through the final chapters of Sarah Manguso’s Very Cold People. (Well written, disjointed, disappointing. Several hours of my life I won’t get back.)

And poof, several hours pass. Just like that.

Google:  “54° F. Wind Gusts up to 42 mph. Light rain. Hard rain in 55 minutes.”  54° F, on Feb 18? Say what?  Hard rain in 55 min. Bah! When were you ever this precise? There’s time.

Light rain sprinkles as I make my way around the park. Wind gusts, at my back, are as forecasted.

But “Hard Rain?” None.

It’s been 655 days. 655 almost-consecutive-days on these morning Cove Island Park walks. Like almost 655 days in a row, and not one day have I been caught out in a rain storm.

I’m out at the farthest point in the park.

The wind is no longer gusting. It’s just blowing.  I glance at my watch and it’s been 36 minutes.

The sky darkens. The wind shifts up another gear.

And here it comes. Damn.

I tuck the camera under my coat and begin to run back to the car, off path, short-cut.  I sink in the wet mud, which is suctioning my boots. I clop-clop-clop forward.  Slow down Man, you’re going to take a header.

Rain, now falls in sheets. No hat. No gloves. I’m drenched. No point running any longer.

I slow down and walk.

It’s February. The Rain. It’s Warm. It’s just…what? I paused for a moment to think about it. It just felt amazing.

I get into the car, check my watch. I shift in the seat, undershirt and underwear having sponged up the rain. I sit there marinating.

43 minutes.

Google, you got it wrong again.

Notes:

• Photos: DK @ Daybreak. 6:20 am, Feb 18, 2022. 54° F, rain wind gusts up to 42 mph. Weed Avenue, Stamford, CT. More pictures from this morning here.
• Poem via The Vale of Soul Making)