rejectomorph | Ignoring Good Advice

Mark Twain warned writers not to write about the weather. Now, on matters of writing, I am inclined to follow Twain's advice. Very few people have written with greater vitality and clarity. But in this case, I find myself ignoring him. The fact is, I like weather, and I like writing about it. So here is todays weather report.

The temperature has dropped into the 80s, and the clouds are even heavier than they were yesterday. Showers have been falling, and the smell of fresh rain is in the air, which has a sultry, almost tropical feel.

But the look of the day is more like one of Pissarro's Parisian street scenes. In my quiet mountain backwater, my thoughts are full of metropolitan images-- rain slicked boulevards, black umbrellas, lights gleaming from shop windows, flashes of color amid crowds dashing through the downpours, and, over it all, the dark marbled mass of cloud churning across the sky.

I do love the rain.
And, sorry, Mr. Clemens.