The rain dripping off the eaves onto the upturned plastic bucket and flower pots played the rhythm of "On the Trail" from Ferde Grofé's "Grand Canyon Suite". I smiled, burrowed down, and went back to sleep glad that my Sunday options for could-do and should-do were cut in half by the rain and wet ground.
I watched enough bits of Ken Burn's "National Parks" to drift into a scenic dream of canyons, boulders, twisty trails, and mountains. Getting to the bottom of the ironing basket today should be easier than a trek to the bottom of the canyon, if not so picturesque.
© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder