It's a rainy blustery day... I've opened all the blinds in the house, turned off the air conditioning and opened the front door. I'm sitting in the doorway. The sky is grey. The metallic smell from the train station and the smell of fresh rain enters the house. I can hear the trains pull up. Squealing breaks, wheels against rails, doors clanging open and thundering close... all punctuated by the pitter patter of huge raindrops (biggest I've ever seen) against the cement of our front porch.

Colors are more saturated under cloud cover. I love to stare at grass on rainy days. Clouds make idaho look less... brown.

There's a dandelion growing up between the cracks in the sidewalk. Heroic little bugger.

The air fees heavy. The breeze feels so... round. like sinking into feather down. The world is less harsh, less scorching and ragged. I wonder if rainy days feel like this to other people. I still don't know how to describe it. Its like a trusted hand brushing back your hair... an old dog leaning against your legs. I guess the word for it would be familiar. Rainy days are familiar.

I'm particularly fascinated by the shape the wind takes in the grass. It moves in ripples. It's ghost people wading through a pond of green. Mayb eit's mmore like a tide washing up and down a beach... I don't know much about tides... but I imagine they'd move similarly.

The wind isn't blowing in one direction. The trees across the street keep blowing in the opposite direction of my bangs across my face.

I'm sad that no one else is on their porch enjoying this. I could imagine if they were. I'd look up and see the girl across the way, sitting in front of her grey house on her wooden steps, arms resting on her knees, just scanning the area with her eyes. She'd see me. We'd exchange friendly neighborly waves and return to our thoughts. But it would be a moment we'd both note... being able to recognize each other in the grocery store later. But that would just be my imagination.

The only people I've seen have been in cars hurrying by. Each eager to reach their destination. Them... and the homeless man on his bicycle who turned his head to stare at me while he rode away. The rain is really picking up though... I need to close the door.

Nanette