Vigorously. That is what we say when the clouds pour their liquid load on our house.
I have awakened the past few mornings to grayer skies lighting, dimly, my bedroom. I lay there torn between competing imperatives: I should stay in bed and read or go back to sleep, and I should be up already finding some constructive endeavor with which to occupy my attention.
A blanket of golden leaves lies around the Silver maple trunk like the flannel skirt wrapped around the base of a Christmas spruce. The past few days have been excellent for photography. Clear or slightly cloudy skies and a solar studio light turning single trees into huge sparkling lights scattered through the forest.
A stack of firewood forms the rungs of a ladder leading from the cold dark depths of winter to the gloriously warm, bright heights of spring. The past few days have clearly illustrated the cold dark depths. On the other hand, several people of my acquaintance would say, “At least it ain’t snow.”
