I’m only home for a week or so and the weather is putting on a show. It always does. This summer I was home for the hottest, humid-est, most utterly miserable days of the year. And now, here I am and it’s 36 degrees and pouring rain. My parents swear it was snowing a few weeks ago. They also swear that–excepting, of course, the three days I was home–this summer pleasantly cool. From this, I can conclude that either they are lying or Ohio hates me. That said, I don’t really hate the rain. The wood stove is roaring, the dogs are snoring and I have plenty of work to do that can be done from my perch on the couch. And there is something about all this grayness, of the trees and the sky and mist, that makes other colors pop. Like the moss and the dead leaves and my favorite yellow rainboots. Happy Rainy Sunday, everyone.