Yesterday began with a deluge, a rainstorm that settled in over the region and sent me into a reflective, closet-cleaning mood. Not that I actually cleaned any closets — though I did do some straightening up and pruning of old clothes in the basement.

But I had no sooner hunkered down for a day of inside work when, about noon, the rain stopped and the sun peeked out. I soon abandoned the basement chores for a walk and some outside tasks — such as cleaning up a pumpkin that was apparently mauled by hungry deer (that’s a first!).

Days with dramatic weather changes can throw off one’s rhythm and to-do list. But they can also foil the routine thinking that sends me into auto-pilot. By mid-afternoon, I decided that the best thing I could do would be to sit on the deck in the rocking chair, bask in the 70-degree temps and describe the scene in my journal.

“The low sun bends behind the big tree in the back of the yard, the one that will probably have to come down soon since half of it is already dead and the other half sports two large lifeless limbs. … Ah, but it’s lovely sitting here on the deck in the warm wind, a few clouds scudding by above, as the oaks flash yellow against the blue.”