It's been raining for three days. Steady rain, the kind that lures you indoors to your favorite chair with a book and an afghan. I drank my fair share of cocoa yesterday afternoon as I curled up with Robin McKinley's, Beauty and Mr. F caught up on his important business stuff.
Life has begun to get busy again for us and it felt blissful to hide away for a few hours. The laundry still hasn't been folded, the daily dust bunnies are gathering en masse, but it didn't matter.
Today is Monday. Slowly the sun tries to peak out to dry the saturated landscape. From an obliging orange tree, a bird I am accustomed to hearing only in spring, not January, sings their song. It is as if they are chasing the rain away.
But the clouds are persistent. Already the mountains on the horizon begin to hide behind the thick cape of precipitation. Mr. F is at the office early, eagerly and earnestly tackling his projects. I should do the same. Make some tea and work on filling a few orders for my valentines.
A few moments more won't hurt.. I'm so near the end of my book and the bird's song is so enchanting. A few moments more of calm.
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