Anticipating rain.

It might rain tomorrow. 49% chance.

In California, this small possibility is cause for celebration.

Just now, I gleefully pulled my hammock and outside pillows in from the backyard. I scooted the fire pit under the stairs for a semblance of safety. I told my ferns to get excited.

The hope of rain makes me look forward to the chance of waking up to the smell of wet concrete; the gentle sounds of water hitting leaves. It makes me imagine myself sitting beside a window blurred by raindrops with a book of poetry open on my lap. I like to think I somehow become more contemplative and think more profound thoughts. Perhaps this is the day a novel spills from me in a single night.

Rain is so easy to romanticize.