Steady Rain.

It started raining sometime after sunrise and has been raining since, more than a half-inch so far, mid-forties, a cold dark Sunday that's pushing down on us here to close out the old year. Pancakes and sausage, then, black coffee, eggs over medium, every pan in the kitchen dirty, two trips to the grocery: first for ingredients, then back again for syrup. The dog's asleep on the floor and the cats are piled into each other on one of the chairs in the living room. It's one-thirty in the afternoon, but it could be any time.

I like the way the light changes in a rainstorm, the way it will go all dark for a while, then actually brighten up just as it starts to rain harder. Off to our west and south, the gray clouds are banking up into a much darker gray.

There's a melancholy that attends this no-man's land after and around Christmas: the term's over, the presents are sent, the new shirts are hanging in the closet. What to do next? Paint the baseboards. Mow the back lawn, maybe — it hasn't been mowed since early June, because it simply did not rain on us until now. Reorganize the kitchen drawers. Current drawer names: Things That Cut and Other Things. Various Whisks. Drawer of All Things. Baking Needs.

Just went black outside. Now it's like a lamp got flicked on, and it's pouring. I like, too, the way the water hangs on the empty branches, the way how even here in December you can see the trees starting to bud back out. It's a long time to wait, but it's good that way. To each its own season.