Rain and books...a perfect blending.

This morning, as consciousness began its slithering route through my brain, I heard the gentle patter of drops of rain as they bounced from leaves to ground, and my first thoughts were of books and endless cups of tea and cozy corners for cuddling--with said books and cups of tea.

Of all the craziness in my childhood, I can't remember a rainy day that didn't bring some joy.  The sometimes soft pitapat and other times deafening sounds of storms raging down on my grandparents' tin roof on their hills-of-Ohio farm.   Later, a corner in the haymow of their barn--before developing my aversion to rodents--gave way to dreams of a prince in shining armor. 

On this September day of rain, I may go to Ireland--via Maeve Binchy; or Italy--by way of Frances Mayes; or perhaps foggy old England is more fitting--as transported by Rosamunde Pilcher.  Then again I might just spend my day in riotous laughter with the delightful and colorful stories of Jenny Lawson from her mostly true memoir Let's Pretend This Never Happened.

Whatever I choose you will find me listening, reading, drinking tea, and cuddling... 

The person who deserves most pity..

is a lonesome one on a rainy day

who doesn't know how to read.

   ---Ben Franklin