I woke up to a gentle silent rain. It bubbled up on the flowers and dotted the tree leaves.
I think I could live in Seattle easily. I am happiest when it is raining. It’s always been that way for me, even when I was a child. So many beautiful things about rain.
How it sounds on the roof. How it pings against metal. The way it brings a coziness to the inside when looking out as it trickles down the glass window on the other side.
A strange thing has occurred with my morning glories. They are changing colors. Look at these. They’re sort of pink, while the original ones are a deep purple.
I wonder what caused this? Not everything can be explained, and perhaps that is the beauty of it.
I love to stare at tree leaves. Look at the thin veins and see how they travel across the leaf.