you spend the shortest night of the year shivering under the vermont country store's finest down-alternative summer-weight blanket in forest pine, listening to a monsoon-driven rain sluice off the roof, and the last time you think you remember seeing the sun was for a few fleeting moments yesterday, at high noon.
they couldn't have been that fleeting, however, because i was silly enough to hang a bedspread out to air - which is now getting a thorough soaking. oh, well, rain water is good for things, right?
it's just about five am as i type this but even the bullfrogs and the birds are subdued by the weight of the water, the chill of the air. at least the weeds don't look quite so cocky. yet.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.