A fairly decent rain has fallen tonight, growing quite vigorous at times. I'm afraid the unraked leaves are now soaked. I could have had them in a pile well covered by a tarp, but now I'll have to let them lie on the lawns for a sunny day or two, turning them at least once so water won't remain on their undersides, before finally raking them. Then, dry at last, they'll be burned. I don't know when the sunny days might arrive though. Rain is likely through Monday at least. By then there'll be a lot more leaves to contend with. If rain returns before they dry, this could go on for quite a while. I hope it isn't going to be one of those falls. I have no desire to become the Sisyphus of the foliage.
Unexpected sunlight brought dappling to the damp lawns this afternoon. The clouds withdrew to shade the mountains and valley while we basked in a bowl of light surrounded by fluffy white ramparts. Wet pavements and strewn leaves glistened, and the red and yellow foliage of maples, dogwoods and other exotic trees kindled brightly amid the reaches of native green pines and brown oaks. Blue sky remained until dusk approached and the crowding clouds, some flushing pink or lavender and others turned gray or steely dark blue, began reclaiming the ethereal territory they'd abandoned a few hours before. Night now presents an occluded sky in which rare stars briefly appear and then wink out, the only visible evidence of the turbulence prevailing in the upper air. Here below it is still and quiet, and no rain is falling. The damp pavement clicks softly under my footsteps as I walk to the end of the driveway. I might be anywhere, I might be nowhere. Suddenly I hear the hooting of an owl, and the concealed landscape is defined.