Today the November rain was warm. I went out bareheaded in the drizzle to grab an onion or two from the garden. I was just going to run out and back in, but something about the rain made me linger. I pulled some weeds, and composted the empty tomato stalks. I picked up some toys on the grass, strewn about by children and winds. I arranged five or so collected rocks on the little picnic table, alternating igneous and sedimentary. I rescued a few rogue clothespins, and tucked some empty pots in the garden shed.
There are times I live too much in my own head. “My brain is tired,” I told Micah as I turned out the light last night. And he said something that turned it all into a joke, and we laughed and laughed in the dark. “Laughter is the best medicine,” my fortune cookie had told me at lunch time. Laughter and warm November rain.