All the green flowers of the mulberry tree are drooping, bright drops of water forming at their tips. Rain has persisted all day, a soft spattering to which I was pleased to wake. The crows and woodpeckers appear to share my delight, and fill the gray air with their raucous calls. Everything else is subdued, though a few splashes of spring color enliven even the reflective pavements. Some of the oaks are already dense with deep green foliage, but those which as yet bear a thinner garb of paler leaves still display their branches, now darkened by the rain. The scene is filled with lines and rich textures, subtle shades of color, and pale light. Now, I hear a thrush singing. The light dims further as dusk nears. I will go out and watch the world fade.