Graced with another delightfully gloomy day of gray and dripping skies, I watched the beads of water form like buds on withered, bare twigs, hang for a while, bright spots amid the dim glow of day, then drop to splash on the rain-sodden grass. It was a pleasant way to waste a few spare moments between tasks. The rain has outlived another day, and cool night is filled with the sound of its splattering and the trickle of the downspout's stream from where it flows just outside my open window. It's likely to continue for several days. The frogs, who emerged early this year, will undoubtedly be happy, though I barely hear them croaking tonight as the sound of the rain is drowning their song. It's all so oddly spring-like, here in the middle of February. Well, I won't complain, despite the early spring fever I am experiencing. I can afford a few days of being a bit more muddle-headed than is usual for the time of year. I will indulge myself.