Awakened by thunder which boomed up the ridge and faded into forest and canyon. Then, there was hail clattering against the windows and rustling the young leaves with a sound like someone thumbing through the pages of an old book. All afternoon, the clouds drifted, opening brief windows for the sun. Mere pavements dazzled the eye for a moment, then returned to blurry gray mirrors. Evening brought patches of stars, and the moon opened its own small circle in the thin, trailing clouds -- around it, a wheel of color; between the wheel and the shell-white gibbous moon, a patch of day-blue sky. From somewhere above the woods to the west, I heard a flock of birds making small, high-pitched calls, like the mewings of kittens. The air is now chilled, and scented with damp earth and fresh vegetation. I let a bit of it trickle in through my barely open window. Mmmm. Spring rain.