A rainy morning. I can hear it, a steady hum. I can see it through the window, a steady stream cascading through the hole in the gutter where one day there will be a pipe diverting the rain to the pond. One day.
There aren't many mornings I decide not to walk. Days of snow and ice are few and far between...the magic of their rarity pulls me outside. Days of solid downpours are almost as rare - the rain usually, miraculously, lifts just long enough for us to make our way down to the curve and back, as if the Gardener crimps the hose for a bit.
This isn't one of those mornings...the rain is falling steadily and predicted to last all day. I think we'll just skip the walk - I'll use those extra minutes writing or playing the drums (or moving the laundry around in its endless cycle.)
I finish my workout and step into the livingroom, thinking I'll grab a handful of peanuts and another cup of coffee. It isn't even time for our walk, yet here they are staring in at me, Max waiting patiently while Frankie, restless, paces back and forth.
Behind them, I see water dripping from the roof overhang. Are you serious? Sorry guys, not this morning.
(As consolation, I grab their breakfast ahead of schedule and we spend a little time on the back deck together listening to the rain. I'm not totally heartless!)
