I love the voices of the rain. Right now it's a medley of soft whisperings, millions of windblown droplets lightly hitting the varied surfaces of our little urban homestead -- each surface yielding a different tonality. The percussion section of this watery symphony comes from the gutters, sharp poc poc poc sounds lending a gentle backbeat. And the wind itself sings the harmonies, louder, softer, dying down, surging up again.
There are three Pacific storms careening down the west coast in a line. This is the first and the least worrisome. The next two come with warnings -- high surf, coastal flooding, gusting winds. B., who likes big weather systems, explains that even though the storms are coming from the northwest, the winds are coming from the southeast because of the way the big atmospheric whirlpools, swirling counterclockwise, strike the coastline and move overhead.
For myself, I prefer the cozy closed in pastime of listening to the raindrops.
I did manage to get out to the backyard during a lull, right when I got home from work and there was still enough light to see -- just barely. Did the rain and wind of the long wet day do any damage to the garden? Nope. So far, so good.