This afternoon beautiful rain-laden clouds started gathering above the mountains where I live. We are to have rain first, then snow. By dusk the clouds had closed ranks and the sky was a solid tapestry of various beautiful grays. Accompanied by the music of a cold wind from the north singing in the tall pines, I put out food for all the various wildings I feed and made sure the bedding in the feral cats' houses was clean and dry.
Now, after feeding those of us who live inside, I listen to the north wind serenade me with its chilly voice while sitting beside a warming fire of oak and pine. Drinking a cup of hot chocolate topped by an indecent amount of whipped cream, I listen more intently; underneath the music of the wind, I can hear the murmuring of the creek. It hasn't (oddly) frozen solid yet, but its voice is the slow, muted speech of one nearly asleep. Cats, dogs and husband are asleep. Wind, creek, and fire song weave together to form a deep peace that wraps around me like a thick, soft blanket.
And, ahhh, here comes the rain...
