And then it rained

It is raining today after countless dry weeks. I put on jeans for the first time since June and I felt okay about it. The air is a bit cooler now and soon all the brown dry grass will infect the trees and the leaves will begin their long transition as fall advances. I stayed in bed for a long time this morning finishing a book, Plainsong By Kent Haruf is a wonderful methodical story about 7 characters in a small town in the high plains of Colorado. Laying in bed with the windows open listening to the rain as I turned the final pages I felt no urgency to rise. The rain started at 6am in a loud burst and then stopped and I felt a twinge of disappointment. We need the rain. The road is dusty and the 200 now logged acres at the curve in my road looks like a hardened blood caked scar. I know with just a bit of rain the open area will green back up and treelings who hardly know they are alive will spring up and get their chance to be trees. At noon we fried eggs and made toast with the doors open letting the new dampness into the house. I made pickled eggs, a small goal I have been waiting to achieve. I like eggs but I also harbor some suspicion about them, I leave them in the nest too long and I worry I will crack open a half formed chick, a pre-historic horror. Of the 12 eggs I hard-boiled 3 of them were a little suspicious and went into the compost, at least 2 had the yolks too close to the shell wall and I deemed them poor candidates for the pickling jar. The rain started again in earnest a half hour after it's first burst and continues on. I went out in my thin cotton shirt and flip flops and cleaned the chicken house while the eggs boiled. Chicken Betty White is broody and hysterical and while she was off the nest I stole all but four of her eggs. I will go back and mark them with a pencil and then try and encourage her along. In my office now writing this and listening to sad songs and feeling perfectly melancholy, perfectly happy to have this rainy day that is busy doing it's own thing with no expectation of me.