the morning dawns under cover, accompanied by a steady drumbeat of rain. a low ceiling, not quite grey and not quite white. throughout the day this curtain rises and falls, its feathered hem revealing glimpses of the mountains beyond. raindrops drip off leaves and eaves, steady; an invitation to meditation. while i long, on the one hand, for the warm summer sun, i find myself sinking into these rainy days. slowing down: physically, of course, but also slowing down the frettin

Easter morning clouds swirl low over the mountains, encircling peaks in wreathing mist, tumbling down to the valley floor. The air heavy with damp and chill, mingled with the green of emerging vegetation and the sweet of woodsmoke. Yesterday a storm front rolled through, moving slow and steady, gracing us with a symphony of thunder rumbling for half an hour straight. No interruptions, no break in the vibration. From there a downpour, torrents beating down on the metal roof, a

This morning there is rain, a steady drumbeat against the corrugated tin roof, streams pouring out of gutter spouts and a grey mist blanketing the hills.  Yesterday afternoon the the impending cold front was palpable: the air still warm, but the wind stirring leaves from the trees and clouds slowly moving in across the sky.  Leaves crunched underfoot, releasing an earthy aroma of autumn into the air. Seasons change as we orbit once again around the sun. The weekend, however,