rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

The Damp

Mist gave way to sprinkles (with scattered stars) and sprinkles turned to drizzle (with no stars.) Even with my window open, I can barely hear it, but the soft sound is like grains of sand being dropped on paper. Only slightly louder is the trickle in the rain gutter. The ensemble makes a relaxing music, occasionally and irregularly punctuated by a percussive splat as a pendant drop falls from eave or tree and strikes a camellia leaf or paving stone. Perpetually distracted by this precipitated pianissimo impromptu, I repeatedly wander into woolgathering, and thus the hours fall, vaporous but sweet, leaving me unperturbed at the loss of them. Though I have accomplished nothing, the garden has been watered, and dawn will reveal beaded grass and roses that sparkle even in the gray light of a cloudy day. Not yet winter, and the night has brought the feeling of spring.

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-One

    Sunday was so balmy that I had the windows open and the fan on for about three afternoon hours. I'd have done it earlier, but I didn't wake up until…

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty

    I've tried to remember Saturday, but it's all fuzzy. I think I ate something with cheese in it. Eating something with cheese has nothing to do with…

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Thirty-Nine

    The predicted high temperature for Sunday keeps inching up. Today's forecast has it at 75. It's the middle day of a three-day spring, all three days…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.