Damp

Nothing but mist and drizzle from this slow storm. All afternoon a rapid chorus of small birds chirped, possessed of some mad energy. The leaves dropped steadily, decorating with brown and yellow the lawns which are already turning noticeably green from the steady watering. Near dusk, a squirrel scampered across the roof and down the mulberry tree. In a rush to get home, I guess. Altogether not a very exciting day. Nightfall brought sufficient thinning of the clouds that the moon, nearly full, has occasionally peeked through and its beams have been caught by beads of water clinging to leaves or blades of grass. Those which survive the night will be lit by sunlight tomorrow, which will be only partly cloudy. For now, the faster the sky clears the colder the night will become. Not cold enough for frost yet, though. Mere damp will linger tonight, and the smell of wet soil and leaves and wood. It goes well with tea. I'll have some tea now.