It’s been a rough week for our heroine up here in the North Country. Bureaucracy, communications, thwartations. I guess it’s a pretty normal week, but I can’t always do it, you know?

And rain. Rain every day. I’m calling myself “the woman who made the rains come,” since the drought seems to have eased up since I’m supposed to be outside working. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to wake up this morning to a yellow-grey sky that, by the end of the first snooze, turned into a gentle drizzle. Up and dressed before coffee, and reading the paper and the news on the computer and slowly realizing there’s a soft background of low distant rumbling thunder.

I’ve been getting up and going for a walk every morning, and then working a couple of times in the garden, bent over, hoeing. A thousand little chances to screw up my back. I got up yesterday morning to no pain, and today’s pretty good, too. Answers are trickling in to the problems that were unsurmountable yesterday, and I found where that stitch-marker was supposed to be.

Now I think I’ll put on a jacket and go sit in the garage with the door open, listening to the rain.