The window next to my desk is open.

It has begun to rain. The sky is the pale grey that I so strongly associate with winter in Oregon (and with fall and spring, too, actually).

The black-eyed Susans and the sweet peas in the front flower bed glow yellow and pink; the rain has imparted a lovely sheen on the leaves and the petals of all the plants. If I were feeling industrious, I might make some photographs.

Instead, I sit and gaze out the window. The trees are swaying with the breeze. The rain makes a lovely spattering noise as it strikes the roof, the pavement, the lawn. It's comforting. The passing cars make splashy sounds, like boats on a river.

The rain intensifies, as does the wind. The trees dance. The water skates down the roof into the gutter. It drips from the ferns and Japanese maple. The low roll of thunder sounds in the distance.

I hear the tinkle-tinkle of Simon's collar at the back door. I get up to let him in. He's wet, and none too happy about it.

The rainfall settles to a little drizzle. The water in the gutter gushes and gurgles as it makes its way to the downspout.

I wish I could hear more of the noises outside, but many of the subtler sounds are masked by the whir of my computer's fan. And the constant noise of the traffic. And the thump-thump of music from next door (the neighbor kids are growing up; I think one is starting high school this year).

At this moment, I wish that I had a house in the country, and that this hypothetical house had a covered porch, and that on this hypothetical porch stood a rocking chair, and that in this hypothetical rocking chair I sat, gently swooshing, listening to the falling rain, just me and the creak of the rocker.

Yesterday afternoon we attended a barbeque. The temperature dropped and the wind began to gust while we ate.

As we were leaving, I looked at the sky. To the east, it was blue and sunny with little white puffy clouds. To the west it was dark and grey and foreboding. I pointed at the edge of the front, directly over our heads, and I said to Kris, "There's the dividing point between summer and fall."

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — The End of Comic Book Movies?   Marvel Entertainment, publishers of some of my favorite comic books from childhood, has concluded a financing deal that grants the company a $525 million line of credit to make up to ten films based on its properties. I'm skeptical of the move.

2004 — Yet Another House Update   Our list of home-improvement projects never gets shorter; new projects rise to replace the old ones we retire.

2001 — Aspiring Writer   I want to be a writer, and always have.