Today’s dawn is dreary, heavy-hearted, kept still by an uncommon silence from the morning birds. Yet the foreboding sky does not depress me. As the day progresses, the sky pours itself out by the buckets. I feel alive as I drive beneath it, as I wait for coffee, as I jump through puddles between the car and the stop and the stop and the car. All day. It is a day whose very coldness makes a smile feel warmer, tomorrow seem sunnier, and I am thankful. I finally arrive at home, my feet cold from continual wetness. But all is well: it is time to brew the tea, to play the piano into the fading afternoon, to corner oneself with a heavy book. It is a Sense-and-Sensibility Day. The distant hillsides mist over with the hanging rain. I see them in black-and-white.
And yet, I bring myself to zoom out, and I realize that I am far from the English countryside:
But still the beauty of the rain, the beauty of that warm smile, bring me to rejoice.