Rainy days and Sundays (with no bird imitations)

For the first time this summer, there are spots in the lawn that look lush green. The rain is falling steadily and the day is still young enough that the quality of light makes the colors more intense. I have my big, thick, plush warm socs on my feet, a hot cup of coffee in my favorite mottled blue oversized mug, a sleeping cat curled up beside me, a couple candles flickering in their holders and an old black and white TCM movie playing on the small television here in my office. And I'm laughing. It seems Errol Flynn is doing his best to impress the girl, Kay Francis, telling her how he'll show her around the town while quoting paragraphs from the guide book all the while and adding his own bits of humor and observations about the locals. Kay looks him straight in the eye and says, "What, no bird imitations?"

Though I think life would be greatly improved with screenwriters and retakes, this rainy Sunday, even without bird imitations, is right on the first take.