The rain stopped some time last night.
I watched the puddle on the brick patio outside our bedroom window grow into a small lake yesterday; the north side yard was under an inch of water. The fish pond out front filled to the brim ... but the rain was such a cold one that Lil and the dogs couldn't go out and play in the gutters by the street, nor could I open the garage door and watch the rain from my studio.
The rain has thrown me off track. My heart says I should be out worshiping God in his creation of the almond blossoms at this time of year, but my aging old body and the rain tell me to stay inside where it's warm, and thank God for the steady gentle heat of the woodstove.
Tomorrow my plan is to work on the remaining bits of the Press in the morning, and then after the day warms, I want to go ride Dink and see the sunlight on the white and pink blossoms, and revel in their scent. I intend to pack my camera in the car, and when the ride is done, take some pictures of the blossoms out there. Even though I've had Dink at the Spurgeon's ranch for many years, I've never taken pictures of the blossoms of the trees in their neighboring orchards.
In fact I might try to pack my camera in one of the voluminous pockets of my cotton jacket, and see what kind of photos can be taken from the back of a good horse.