It's a day.

It's grey out - the soft grey that's almost white, misty and smooth, a soft bowl over the sky. The light's muffled by it, the day made shadowy; the purple-leaved trees are so dark they're almost black, outside my window, and even the evergreens come close. It's a sleepy sort of weather, with the shadows, cool but not cold.

It's raining, if you can call pinpricks of water rain. So little they're almost sharp, shiverings along the skin. It's supposed to only get up to 70 today; warm enough to be pleasant but not uncomfortable, in general. And started with the rain's touch.

The rain's scent. The air was so sweet this morning, wet plants, wet pavement.