The constantly re-ooccuring rain has made February dull and unpleasant when it should have been bright and beautiful to welcome spring. It had made me shut all the doors and windows of my house as tight as I could and myself within them in an attempt to escape from the unwanted, off-season pitter-patter on the roof and thuds and sloshes on the window panes and the road. It had made me paranoid. Any unexpected sound would bring up an uncomfortable fear of another spell from the thick grey sky. It hadn't rained yesterday though. I gathered up hope for better weather with a rain free morning too. I sat up in my bed, still under my blanket to fight off the chill. As I tried to finish a book I was reading, failing to concentrate over the last few days, I heard a soft rustling through the closed shutters of the window above me.
The sound immediately disheartened me; reluctantly I opened the window, sure of seeing strings of water pouring outside. What I saw amazed me and confused me. I had been in this house for only a week but that was not too little time to not have noticed that gigantic form earlier. What I feared to be the howling of the clouds was actually the rustling of a million leaves on the largest tree I had ever seen. It was so huge, it filled the complete frame of the view through my window.
It wasn't particulary windy, but it seemed that the numerous leaves were playing catch with the breeze, tossing it among themselves, moving, dancing cheering with laughter. I was convinced that the rustling was being echoed within the bounds of that mammoth tree. It was not the usual pulsating sound of wind blowing in and out of a tree. It was a continuous buzz, like in a radio struggling with bad reception. Looking at that tree gave me hope. Hope of a sunny day. It said to me that it could fight off the clouds. It gave me a promise of the spring. It brought the slightest smile to me, a smile inside me, my face I am sure, still held an expression of awe. It gave me the urge to finally leave my bed and get up and about. The great tree and its millions of chattering, cheering children were here to keep me company.
The sound immediately disheartened me; reluctantly I opened the window, sure of seeing strings of water pouring outside. What I saw amazed me and confused me. I had been in this house for only a week but that was not too little time to not have noticed that gigantic form earlier. What I feared to be the howling of the clouds was actually the rustling of a million leaves on the largest tree I had ever seen. It was so huge, it filled the complete frame of the view through my window.
It wasn't particulary windy, but it seemed that the numerous leaves were playing catch with the breeze, tossing it among themselves, moving, dancing cheering with laughter. I was convinced that the rustling was being echoed within the bounds of that mammoth tree. It was not the usual pulsating sound of wind blowing in and out of a tree. It was a continuous buzz, like in a radio struggling with bad reception. Looking at that tree gave me hope. Hope of a sunny day. It said to me that it could fight off the clouds. It gave me a promise of the spring. It brought the slightest smile to me, a smile inside me, my face I am sure, still held an expression of awe. It gave me the urge to finally leave my bed and get up and about. The great tree and its millions of chattering, cheering children were here to keep me company.
Very nicely articulated
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