Last week, some people said they were tired of our months of unusually dry, sunny weather. They were eager for fall. I wanted to hit them. Both yesterday and today, I woke to rain. The word dreary--for the next five months--comes to mind and nobody does dreary like Poe.
Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious dog toy of forgotten form
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some Airedale," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door:
Wanting breakfast, nothing more."