Perhaps it is global warming. Perhaps it is just the luck of the season, but this fall has been one of the warmest in my memory (which admittedly is not a sharp as it once was). I haven't seen any official records, but I know it has been the sunniest. Cabbage, long ago given up to the bugs, is prospering. Its bed is alive with new plants springing out of the stem of the old ones.
I tell you this to give you a clue as to what a little rain does. We've had rain for the past couple days; not too heavy, mostly sprinkles every few hours. Instead of soaking into a thirsty earth, it sits wetly above that layer of clay, making the ground messy. Any well-traveled area is quickly made slippery and muddy. You may think you are walking across a wet grassy yard when you are actually filling up the tread of your shoes with a thin layer of mud which will adhere to your shoes only until you touch the floor of your home. Don't worry, there will be enough to provide a plenty of shoe-shaped prints for every room in which you tread. A quick, careful trip to the compost pile or the recycling cans means either mud in the house, or a visit to the sink to clean those shoes. My experience says that no matter how much I wipe my shoes on the entrance rug, the mud will cling long enough to spread throughout the house.
Despite the inconvenience of the mud, The rain is nice. The gray days provide a calm backdrop for viewing the world. When the sun shines, I see the blue sky, the glowing woods, the green grass. It takes a gray, gloomy day to notice white, smooth, peeling bark of the sycamore in the gully, the moss covered trunk of the oak, or the lichen glowing on the branches of the poplar beside the road.
Their trunks almost glow against the gray sky and the darker gray lines formed by trunks of trees surrounding them.