come again some other day...

plink. plink. plonk.

brrr-ting.

plink. plink. plonk.



all night that little space which had recently been mended was brutalized by storm water. various glass contraptions and one enamaled one caught the leaks. meanwhile, sleep was hard to come by.

i finished a sock i was working on. that was nice. but i decided to rip back another one and rework it. rather ambitious considering the hour and the pounding eye-strain-induced headache.

if i didn't know the intricacies, subtleties, and pace of a rainstorm before, i certainly have a handle on them now. like being underwater. like being on a ship. storms are one of my favorite things. i enjoy them better from a dry roost, however.

driving to town yesterday the creeks looked like something from starbucks. churned. foamed. they are probably equivalent in taste, as well. probably. i speculate.

a heron in the marsh. i'll marry you, crane-y dear. a little norstein enters my day via real life creature. real mist. she wasn't wearing pearls, though.

the gate at the corner of the house flagellating in the dark. splintery old. splintery old. all vigor and zeal. a whole lot of powerful noise. unlatched.

and wind. chilling. a weeper combing the ditches. searching.

the rain isn't raining just now. it's hanging up there waiting. craggy chandelier that lightens after dark.