A Good Day To Write

A sheet of cloud fluffed and spread across the grayed sky this morning. Aged and towering Elm and Hickory's leaves fluttered in their billowing.  Except for the drone of the highway in the distance, it was almost as sweet a moment as any on the farm.

I put on the kettle for some tea and the back door burst open. Coco opened it and came in with a purpose. She must have heard thunder in the distance. She always hears it before I do. She turned around in the hallway and stood there looking towards the back yard. Her cue to me to look in that direction.  As I brushed along side her I petted her fawn coat. She was slightly damp from the first traces of a most welcome rainfall.

The winds had picked up and were now moving the trees and bending their boughs at will. I walked to the back door and mentioned to no-one in particular, "Coco, one of these days I will teach you how to close that door too." A few minutes later, back at my desk, I heard the thunder too.

Coco's belly is warming my feet. Every so often she looks up at me, her ears pricked forward as she keenly listens to the advancing storm. I cup her lovely face in my palm and tell her she is such a good girl. It will be a rainy day. Good for the garden. Good for the squash and cucumber and tomatoes and beans and potatoes. A good day to make the best of it.  A good day to write.