A bright spot appeared to mark the location of the sun, making the gray world glow, setting off a flourish of bird songs. A jay landed on a twig, causing its burden of pendant raindrops to tremble. This brightening lasted only a moment. The rolling clouds thickened between earth and sun, and the gray was restored, the birds ceased to sing, the drops of water lost their sheen. Now the scent of wood smoke creeps through the cracks around the doors and windows and fills the house with the smell of winter. This rain is expected to continue for at least three more days. I'm beginning to dream of deserts and the dark shadows of buttes marking day's passage across a bright landscape. Tonight, I will listen to the warmest music I can find.