I love rainy days. They feel like permission to stay in and curl up and read with a hot cup of coffee.
Outside my window, the new growth appears greener, deeper, richer, more colorful overnight. A welcome sight for winter-sore eyes.
Sitting, I hear the soft sound of the droplets descending from barely budding leaves to the ground below.
The rich aroma of damp loam, where we put new flowers in, smells woodsy in a way it only does in the spring. As if it were awakening and breathing deep joyful breaths of warm air.
The deep pinks of the azaleas and the vibrant yellows of the forsythia stand out more intensely than on a sunny day.
The birds are singing, a rhythmic counterpoint to the raindrops.
And I will let the kids sleep in and enjoy the morning just a little bit longer.