Rain

It's raining again. I fall asleep to the sound of rain on the roof, waking in the middle of the night when it pours and pounds in the gutters, hear it splatter against the windows when I wake, look through the raindrops at the little wet birds eating seeds from the feeder in the snowball bush, feel it hit my head when I look out to see if the apple tree is in bloom yet.

I am reminded of the taxonomy of rain Alice Hoffman mentioned in her book, The Probable Future: fish rain, rose rain, daffodil rain, glorious rain, red clover rain, boot polish rain, swamp rain, and the fearsome stone rain. Today's rain is somewhere in between a rose rain and a stone rain. It's not the hard, harsh almost pellets of ice we get in the winter, but it's also not a soft, misty spring rain either.

Quilt Show

I've spent the last two days at our church's seventh annual quilt show. I helped set up to display the quilts, worked a bit in the kitchen, spent time with old friends and made some new ones, and talked about quilts, raising children and chickens, gardens, recipes, and the state of the world. I ate homemade vegetable soup with homemade rolls and homemade pie with coffee. I took photos of the quilts and talked to those who made them or inherited them. I am inspired now to begin quilting again. I'd stopped when I began library school and haven't quilted in almost three years. I put a quilt in the frame a couple of months ago, but became distracted with knitting.