Rain-slick trees green with lichen dance in a puddle’s punctuated sky.
rain
Warm rain. The snow has shrunk to a few scrofulous patches in the woods. Half an hour before sunrise, a bluebird is singing.
A lull in the rains. The transition from a watercolor world to pencil-brown and charcoal-gray is nearly complete.
Steady drumming of rain on the porch roof. Dark trunks disappearing into fog. A classic November day.
A half hour after sunrise, a rattling in the fallen leaves: raindrops! Slowly accelerating into an actual shower. Which peters out much too soon.
Rain tapering off by mid morning. The sun even emerges for one or two seconds, setting off a crow.
Light rain seasoning the breeze. A squirrel perched on a swaying limb chisels open a walnut—that haunted-house sound.
A mid-morning break in the rain. The sun almost comes out. From up in the woods, the shrill panic of a squirrel just missed by a hawk.
Showers give way to tentative sunlight by late morning. It’s quiet. A lone blue jay calls.
Deep blue sky with last night’s rain still glistening in the understory. In the sun-drenched canopy, four crows sit yelling at a raven.
Steady rain of the sort we’ve needed for months. Lily-of-the-valley’s drought-burnt leaves turn slick as tongues.
Light rain accompanying a front. As it tapers off, the yard fills with small birds—yellow-rumped and other warblers combing the leaves for breakfast.
Rain prolongs the early-morning light till well past 10:00. A chipmunk appears in the garden, bustling among the drenched weeds.
Overcast with a restless feeling to the air. When the rain comes it is an autumn rain, quiet, lacking the exuberance of breeding birds.