Singing

As the night passed, I noted a change in the sound of the rain. Near the south end of the house, there was a splashing that grew steadily louder even though the rainfall remained constant. I could hear it clearly even though my window was barely open. I went out to look, and found that the water cascading from the roof of the neighboring house had eroded enough earth to create a new small pond below their eaves. The clatter it makes is really quite remarkable. Now, each downpour makes it sound as though I lived next to a waterfall. Come to think of it, I guess I do now live next to a waterfall. Ah, how musical it is!

Bits (None Naughty)

The ants have invaded again. Every surface in the kitchen has been scrubbed almost to transparency, every edible item is sealed and stored, but the ants still appear. I'm beginning to think that they have adapted to eat the residue of those cleaning fluids of which the house now reeks.

Next door, the small apple tree is blooming. The apple trees in the orchard at the end of the block are still bare. Usually, they all bloom at about the same time, but this year time has come unhinged.

Soft rain possesses soporific powers. I recommend it to all who wish to spend aimless hours woolgathering.

Via braddelong: Rick Perlstein now has a web site with an archive of his articles and excerpts from (and reviews of) his books. It looks as though there's space for a weblog as well, but it's still blank. Maybe he's still trying to fathom Movable Type.