Just drippy, no rain until now.

Kechang Kechog is playing his tibetan flute.

Whiskey is asleep by the stereo on the carpeted floor and the french patio door is open unto the rain sound. A lady is singing on the flute (tibetan music) album. 

I had flashes of a very young time when I first moved here, looking at the pebbles on the path in Mundy in the warm dampness. I hugged hubby and shared it in my heart with him, this eternal forest of ours on the west coast.