#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

It was pouring, a drenching, a hard rain ran all over our coats, mine and the dogs’. It was a slog, but not unpleasant. The brook, an impression of greens, browns, beige, a stirred and pelted surface. Oh, Charlie, he barked at the angel. He wants her away, she has not flown. She holds her little lamb and looks into the brook and the ripples Charlies makes with his dipping. We thought we’d stay out, but there was a roll and heave of thunder while we were treading under the leafless trees and it shook us; none of us likes to be out in thunder and lightning. We headed back, soaked, and I towelled them dry. I wrote a poem from the letters and liked it. I rode into the city to see an apartment my youngest might move into soon and it was perfect for them. And something large and weighty and momentous happened in the government tonight. So much relief. A flood of it, like the rain filling the yard, puddling like crazy in the grass all day.