This is a little musing about umbrellas.
Rain has come to melt the snow. The temperatures are in the 50s. I don’t have to wear my hat with the flaps. Everything is better than it has been for the last couple of months.
Today was an umbrella day. I have lots of umbrellas. Most of them are broken. The one that was in my bag looked like this.
I saw someone with a big yellow umbrella. I gazed at it longingly, and then began to fiddle with mine in a vain attempt to fix it. I wish I had gotten a picture of it. I saw a few other nice umbrellas, but most were ordinary and didn’t make me feel envious.
This evening, I broke out the cat umbrella that my husband found a few years ago. I have’t used it because I’m afraid I’m going to break it.
I’ve liked umbrellas since childhood. Maybe it’s that they make me feel fancy and safe.