It’s raining today. I have a lot of things I can do inside. It’s weird. I actually feel more like going out and playing in the rain than I would if I were still in the city. It is so pretty, and I love the sound of the rain on the roof. Maybe I’ll hike down to the river and just sit and watch the circles form and expand on the water.
The dog didn’t want to come. He’s more of a cat than a dog. He won’t even get his paws wet, unless it’s in snow.
It’s beautiful out here. I love the silence. It isn’t real silence. At first you think it’s quiet. But then you notice the soft clatter of the raindrops on the undergrowth. And then it’s the sound of the grass scratching against your jeans. And the squish of the grass under your shoes as you walk. Then there is a bird chirping. But only one, because it’s raining, and they go somewhere when rains.
The burble and hum of the river reaches my ears when it is still out of sight through the trees. I slow down as I begin to take measured steps down the wet path, so that I don’t slip. Now the swish of tree branches add to the “silence.” I laugh because it’s not silent at all. It is the kind of silence I love. Full, and enveloping.