One of the earliest poems in the English (or old English) language talks about the small rain on field and tree and how I wish I were in bed and my love in bed with me.

Not much has changed in hundreds of years, has it?

It was a good day to wrap in an afghan, make a cup of tea and enjoy a lapful of cat while reading a mind candy novel.

None of which happened today, of course, because I had to work, but we all enjoyed the sound of the rain pattering on the skylight above the secretary's desk. We didn't talk much; just enjoyed the quiet and the rain and worked at our individual tasks. Until the serenity was violated by a telephone ringing or the entrance of another employee with a question / querulous complaint / observation.

We've endured six weeks of dry dry weather, Santa Ana winds and major fires since the last rainy day. I sincerely hope we get more. We're experiencing a serious drought and were beginning to wonder if we were ever going to see precipitation again.

Time to break out the umbrellas and the sweaters. I anticipate some cool weather ahead. And, with any luck, wet weather.

Yesterday the trees on my property were trimmed and the lemon tree re-planted to the front yard. Perfect timing for the rain!