quarter-inch is all we got overnight. it must have been a heavy downpour, regardless, as roses lie prostrate below our bedroom window.

I adhered to paved surfaces on my walk this morning, avoiding drenched grass, small puddles, and congregations of mud and street debris.

in other news, four children were discovered alive after more than a month alone in the Amazon rainforest.

my husband and son and I camped during a thunderstorm once. cozy between the two of them, I stayed warm and dry while holes in the corners of the tent made for a miserable night for my two bestest guys.

after far too much of a good thing, I’ve witnessed street after street of wet carpet, furniture, and other ephemera of people’s lives unceremoniously chucked to the curb.

victims of Katrina and other mighty gales have their own stories to tell, gargantuan tragedies unimaginable to endure.