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You know, you shouldn't tell me my weather descriptions are good, I might do more of them. Besides, it's raining, and the rain's beautiful.
I came home after dark (but no, not just now). The parking lot's surface was a sheen of black touched with amber streaks from the lights, and gentled by the ambient light from them. And all across its surface, a scattering of silver darts, where wind-driven rain struck the puddles, rippled them, pulled their surfaces in brief sputters of disturbance. The rain spattering against my coat, against the car with the soft sounds of water onto metal and glass.
Also onto the grocery bags, with the rattle of water striking plastic. Ah, well, so the prosaic does exist.
The wind is up tonight, not high, but present, brushing over rooftops and against windows, carrying the rain gently rather than driving it, when it falls. We don't have the heat up, so there's a bit of a shiver in the downstairs area, as if the wind and the rain breathe in here; I like it. It should be chilly; it is, and it's not so chilly as to be uncomfortable.
And despite the illusion of oneness with nature, the rain is stuck outside. Otherwise, I'd be worrying about mold.
As it is, I'm free to enjoy the gentle-wildness of a nicely rainy evening.
I wonder if it will mist up in the morning? I doubt I'll be up early enough to know....
I came home after dark (but no, not just now). The parking lot's surface was a sheen of black touched with amber streaks from the lights, and gentled by the ambient light from them. And all across its surface, a scattering of silver darts, where wind-driven rain struck the puddles, rippled them, pulled their surfaces in brief sputters of disturbance. The rain spattering against my coat, against the car with the soft sounds of water onto metal and glass.
Also onto the grocery bags, with the rattle of water striking plastic. Ah, well, so the prosaic does exist.
The wind is up tonight, not high, but present, brushing over rooftops and against windows, carrying the rain gently rather than driving it, when it falls. We don't have the heat up, so there's a bit of a shiver in the downstairs area, as if the wind and the rain breathe in here; I like it. It should be chilly; it is, and it's not so chilly as to be uncomfortable.
And despite the illusion of oneness with nature, the rain is stuck outside. Otherwise, I'd be worrying about mold.
As it is, I'm free to enjoy the gentle-wildness of a nicely rainy evening.
I wonder if it will mist up in the morning? I doubt I'll be up early enough to know....
