Today it's raining. It's not the heavy kind of rain that's done with in a shower or two, the large fat drops soaking everything that they come into contact with, filling up puddles quickly and leaving the roads as rivers. This is the kind of rain that's so light it's barely there. The little droplets finer than sand, that whirl and swirl in a gust of wind.
It's the kind of rain that catches you by surprise. You can see that it's grey and wet. You know that the rain is there. You think that it's so fine that it won't be too bad. Seconds after stepping outside though, your drenched right through to the skin. It comes and comes, there's no let up. A wet morning becomes a wet afternoon becomes a wet night.
It is just rain though. Nothing dangerous or sinister about the amount that we've had. Not like the parts of the country with floods or tornados, I'm not trying to drum up sympathy for a bit of wet falling from the sky.
Nice weather for ducks. That's what they always say. I'm not sure that I'd be that enamoured of the rain if I were a duck. The ones I saw early certainly weren't leaping for joy at the sudden wetness. Nice weather for frogs might be more fitting. Or fish. It's the closest to being underwater that we usually get on dry land in any case.
The clouds look as though they were painted across the sky in water colours, much to wet water colours. It's the grey clouds that merge all the way down to the ground that really get you down though, obscuring the view, it isn't very uplifting. Before long you could almost feel that it's never not rained. It's easy to forget that only days ago the sun was shining and all was right in the world.
It's dark now, but then the day was barely lighter. Perhaps I'll awake to something a little more cheerful tomorrow...