Friday, January 06, 2006

I can’t say I love rain,

but I do really like it. It’s raining buckets again today, a steady onslaught of precipitation careening down hilly streets in wide tides, filling around blocked sewer drains and collecting in large pools in intersections. At 8:16 AM, the low grey purple ceiling gives the feeling of pre-dawn, prompting late starts and slower than usual traffic. Everything is damp; dampness becomes the norm and permeates my shoes, socks, hair, pants, grocery bags, cat, laundry, welcome mat, Irish soda bread, (the paper bag it came in), and dilutes and cools my coffee off. It’s hard to willingly depart the warm comfort of my secure car, heater on full blast combating the 40ish and 50ish degree wet temperatures, the soothing lull of my Radiohead CD playing, and the lighted dashboard illuminating the comfortable, early morning, post-dawn darkness.

I love the sound of rain, while I'm laying in bed enveloped in serenity and warmth. I think it is a special time of day, during the tiny, early morning hours where if numbers and time were colors that period of the day would be hues of yeloow, orange, rust, red, and maroon (repsectively hourly, 1 AM to 5 AM, with graduating shades in between).

The word "between" seems to me it should mean being in tweed, or an aspect of being that would involve weening. Maybe it should mean to be weening someone from wearing tweed.

(I know "ween" is actually spelled "wean", but for language purposes I think those spellings should be interchangable. Kind of like "aero" and "arrow." )

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