If only rain didn't make mud...

Last night, I had forgotten that it was supposed to rain.

But, when I was lying there in bed, in the dark quiet of nighttime, I remebered.


As I suddenly became aware of the pattering of drops against the roof and window and the plinking splashes sounding down the drainpipe, I remembered.

Oh, yeah. It was supposed to rain tonight.

I got out of bed and crept into the dark livingroom. I crawled across the sofa and peered out between the sheer curtains, into the weeping world beyond the glass. There, the wooden porch, slick and darkened by the cool droplets. And the big green tree, illuminated by the lamp, yet shrouded by that unearthly veil of falling rain.

I went back to my bed and lay there in the darkness, with my arm between two pillows and the blankets pulled up to my chin.

And I listened to the rain.

I love the sound of rain.