There has been a soft rain falling off and on since last night, and as I walk to work under the heavily overcast skies this morning everything is glistening luminous under the dim light; the pavement a wet black canvas painted here and there with splashes of colour reflecting the city pulsing above it.

Earlier, I lay in bed watching the sky through a gap in the curtain, thinking I was as reluctant to come to wakefulness as that sky was.  Last night’s rain capped a gorgeous, warm and sunshiny Sunday – that kind of weekend day you look upon as a gift at any time of year, but particularly this one.  The day was gentle; I walked and shopped and puttered around my home, and later my table housed a big pot of vegetable barley soup and toasted rosemary bread and warm company and suddenly I find myself in deep autumn with not a little pleasure. 

The slowed pace amidst the low clouds and glistening streets extends that autumnal comfort even on a Monday morning.  Once upon a time when I was a driver on the highway trying to get to work in mornings like this, I would curse at the way even a soft rain like this would slow everything down.   Now I feel lucky to be able to find pleasure in the slowed pace of a city under a rain.  It wasn’t all contentment – I wanted to walk right past my office and spend the morning in it. 

I’m not sure I’ll move so peacefully into winter, but who knows?  Maybe I just need to learn to carry with me in my mind the gentleness of a rainy morning.