A mid-morning downpour. I push my chair back from the sudden curtain of roof-runoff and continue writing to the thrum...

A mid-morning downpour. I push my chair back from the sudden curtain of roof-runoff and continue writing to the thrum of it. After half an hour it subsides into drizzle and birdsong. A male towhee flits through the yard, pursued by a pair of begging fledglings.