Red dawn, wet morning

I awoke this morning with my face toward a window. With the peculiar skills of a mind fading away from slumber, I commented to the world at large, "Something's different." I am not sure whether I spoke aloud or not. As my consciousness reconstituted itself, I decided that there was something unusual about the color of my curtains. Further inquiry established the fact that the window was glowing pink. Once volition had associated itself with motor skills, I elevated myself, walked over to the window, and parted the curtains.

I felt as if I were inside the sunrise. The warm glow of dawn sunlight came from everywhere at once. From horizon to apex, the sky appeared as a purée of peaches and strawberries. I concluded, of course, that the heavens were overcast, and that the spectacular dawn was being spread by the clouds.

A few minutes later, the friendly but firm voice of the local radio station warned me that I was probably in for a lot of rain. I wondered how such a warm, lovely sky could possibly drop water on my head. By the time I left the house, however, the pink glow had been replaced by gray pallor. Lightning flashed occasionally. The ground was wet. The gods had the sniffles.

Soon after I reached the highway, the rain became heavy enough to make visibility poor even at close range. The line of vehicles I had joined was traveling nearly ten miles per hour under the posted limit. I fancied that my tires must be sending up spray onto the windshield of the car behind me just as the SUV ahead of me was drenching my windshield; that was a pleasing thought.

I arrived in Austin and made my way to my classroom. From time to time I allowed my mind to wander, hoping that the rain would continue into the afternoon. I love rainy days. Sadly, the rain tapered off by the time class ended. When I emerged, the sky was still overcast but would not be so for long. As I write this, the sky is clear blue with fluffy white clouds.