One morning on our anniversary road trip, I woke up early and snuck out to the porch for some quiet time.
It was dark and cold, foggy and raining.
Something about that morning gave me words that bubbled up and I couldn't help but write them down.
There's something about the first rain of a new season that makes me very sentimental.
Especially this season.
Maybe because this year I'm deep in the mountains surrounded by forests and hill.
The fog is rolling through like a ghost, revealing dark bones of the evergreens.
Being here is awakening a sense of creativity in me.
A de ja vu of cold, dark days spent inside.
Listening to the rain and grateful for the warmth of family, home, and cider.
There's something comfortable about the rain for me.
Remember the days with the fireplace burning, hearing the splash of each drop and letting your mind wander.
I want to slow down and listen - please let me stay here.
I'll rest here and watch, listen in awe.
When did I get so rushed and busy?
This is exactly what I didn't want to happen.
Is it the city that's done this to me?
Revive my senses, Lord, that I might find what I've lost.
A sense of wonder and comfort at the creation you've designed.
Just listen to the rain.
When it's all you hear, it's magical.
No cars, buses, or trucks.
There's just something about the rain.