Rain Rain

It is cold and wet today, it has been for the better part of this past week. Mud and puddles and the like. Soaking wet hair and drippy boots and smiles from ear to ear in our corner of the world. Even though the grayness hangs about my shoulders and the sky holds the same pallor, in my heart there is music.

I snapshot the wide grin on my husband's stubbly face and watch my long legged wide eyed little people twirl and spin in the wet grass and pour buckets and buckets of water on an already wet porch. Running eagerly to clutch small umbrellas in even smaller hands and skip and sing in unison.

Chubby legs stuffed into squat little boots stumble and slide, trudging through the soaking square of lawn, following the rest. "Da, da da.", he cries, reaching to encircle one of Tim's large fingers in his small fist.

A day many could argue is a throwaway, what with the chill and puddles and ever emptying clouds. Not my three. This day is one for the books. They savor every last drop. And so do I, watching them through the porch window, standing beside them as we plot the space for our soon coming garden, staring up at the rain pouring down on us all.