The rain.

The rain has come. Bringing with it damp cardinals full of chirps, pipping across my backyard, shuffling their feathers ~ the papa feeding a young one as big as himself. Tiny bright goldfinches, finding seed during a pause. Symphonic drips, orange tiger lilies glistening and shining with drops. Wet, dark soil, a backdrop to each freshly washed leaf of nutmeg thyme, oregano, sage. Rosemary spires brushed with rain and scenting the air.

The cat coming in, her back in wet spikes from hiding out under the tall grasses during a gale.

Blue skies and birdsong, and still the rain falls. On the windowsill, spritzed with rainwater, lays a little collection of white pebbles I bring back each time we go to the beach, one by one.

I took an umbrella and went to the woods, and brought back a large branch I found on the forest floor, with many arms, which I trimmed to make into a scarf-holder. My scarf collection has been seeking the right branch for a while now. This rainstorm seemed the perfect time to go find it. Scrubbed clean and sanded and trimmed, ready to be drilled in place, and to receive a bevy of scarves ~ perfect.