Kept in by the rain is infinitely more pleasant than feeling trapped. It's an invitation to relax and listen, to hear the wind lashing through the bay tree, laden with green, and the branches of an old oak slowly encroaching upon the house. The clatter of rain drops on the window. A slice of pie and a cup of coffee that has just bubbled itself done. For the past year, maybe it has something to do with inverted pressure zones or being nestled against the hills, there has been one day after another of 60% change of rain when the only hint of moisture scudded by in billowing clouds, and days of 100% chance of rain when the clouds pressed themselves together in dark, ominous masses, but no rain. Today we have rain that can be called rain. Mud and rivlets, doors that stick, towels that refuse to dry, welcome mats that have turned to mush. How I have missed the rain.