Brevity the soul of wet

[rejectomorph]

Sky. Loads of sky, with and without clouds, with and without sun, with and without rain falling from it. Right now it's letting moonlight in my window and suggesting that I go out and howl at it. Though tempted, I refuse. At least I got a walk this gray evening, getting my shoes only slightly wet as they brushed drops of water from the rapidly growing blades of grass which, trimmed quite recently, already stretch high enough to bow in light breezes. May has begun well. The wet has turned the pine pollen mostly to paste. Only on the covered part oft he back porch does it rise in puffs from around my feet with each step. On the wet pavements, where it isn't washed away altogether it runs like diluted yellow paint. I am happy not to sneeze. Thanks, rain. Stick around.