Early this morning, I am not sure exactly when, my consciousness arose enough from sleep to not truly awaken me, but enough that I have a memory of it after really getting out of bed. As I thought the kind of scattershot, disconnected things that I always think when barely conscious, I noticed the pitter patter of rain on the window. "How could I not notice that?" I asked myself.

I love rain at night in the spring. When you go six months without hearing that sound (snow falling does not really make any sound), it is a gentle, soothing sound - the renewing waters sent forth by the sky to clean winter's silt and debris away, and to gently care for baby tulips and crocuses.