Though it was early in the morning, when light would just be illuminating the fog that clung around trees in the cool night, he could tell that it had rained that day. Or it was going to rain soon. There was no telltale tapping against the newly installed glass window panes, nor the far off dripping of another leak in the roof that he had not yet found. Opening up the paper doors, mug of tea in his hand, he saw nothing but gray skies bathing the atmosphere in lethargy. It would be a quiet day, at least.
He looked forward to any time he could escape the oppressive heat of the summer, open up all of the doors wide, and take in his surroundings. What was the point of having a home surrounded by nature if not to become one with it? Normally, he wasn't the type to be so sentimental about the antiquated ideas of Shintoism that his grandmother insisted on rambling to him about whenever she called. However... He was certainly growing towards some form of spirituality when he stepped out onto the veranda on mornings like this. Everything green and gray, drenched in the mystery so often associated with mountains such as this. The grass was long and unruly, but the rice paddies of his neighbors were kept in neat squares. Trees grew together, the forest thick and maze-like, but not intimidating. The atmosphere hung with the regal air that the gods possessed, as his grandmother would remind him. It begged for nothing, rather, demanding reverence.
On his own, he was able to meet these silent demands as he had no need for an overabundance of conversation. After opening the paper doors, and taking his place on the veranda, though sheltered by the overhanging thatched roof, the sky finally opened up. The hillside was covered in a blanket of rain that filled the valleys with deafening white noise. The old floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he sat down with crossed legs on the polished wood. He'd decided that he'd like to watch the rain for a while. It would flood his dirt and gravel pathways for sure, but he had nowhere to be so he didn't mind. The smell of dust mingling with the moisture in the air just served to remind him that he was alone in the house. He had been for a while. All the same, he was gifted with the opportunity to sit and watch the rain until it became mist in the air once more.
The scent of wet dirt and the fresh season permeated the home now, and he was glad he'd opened the doors. Water dripped from the overhanging roof and the leaves of the many surrounding trees, though he'd have to go out and explore to see that properly. At the moment, he was content with sipping his now lukewarm tea before he was forced to start the day. Then, he'd have to leave behind the scenery for paperwork that was much less calming, and he'd have to forgo remembering that he was surrounded by such beauty. He'd forget that he was surrounded by anything.
He looked forward to any time he could escape the oppressive heat of the summer, open up all of the doors wide, and take in his surroundings. What was the point of having a home surrounded by nature if not to become one with it? Normally, he wasn't the type to be so sentimental about the antiquated ideas of Shintoism that his grandmother insisted on rambling to him about whenever she called. However... He was certainly growing towards some form of spirituality when he stepped out onto the veranda on mornings like this. Everything green and gray, drenched in the mystery so often associated with mountains such as this. The grass was long and unruly, but the rice paddies of his neighbors were kept in neat squares. Trees grew together, the forest thick and maze-like, but not intimidating. The atmosphere hung with the regal air that the gods possessed, as his grandmother would remind him. It begged for nothing, rather, demanding reverence.
On his own, he was able to meet these silent demands as he had no need for an overabundance of conversation. After opening the paper doors, and taking his place on the veranda, though sheltered by the overhanging thatched roof, the sky finally opened up. The hillside was covered in a blanket of rain that filled the valleys with deafening white noise. The old floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he sat down with crossed legs on the polished wood. He'd decided that he'd like to watch the rain for a while. It would flood his dirt and gravel pathways for sure, but he had nowhere to be so he didn't mind. The smell of dust mingling with the moisture in the air just served to remind him that he was alone in the house. He had been for a while. All the same, he was gifted with the opportunity to sit and watch the rain until it became mist in the air once more.
The scent of wet dirt and the fresh season permeated the home now, and he was glad he'd opened the doors. Water dripped from the overhanging roof and the leaves of the many surrounding trees, though he'd have to go out and explore to see that properly. At the moment, he was content with sipping his now lukewarm tea before he was forced to start the day. Then, he'd have to leave behind the scenery for paperwork that was much less calming, and he'd have to forgo remembering that he was surrounded by such beauty. He'd forget that he was surrounded by anything.
