It’s been raining for almost two and a half days straight. No flooding potential, but it looked close to it last night as water came up to within four inches of the foundation. Rain was sporadic most of the day, giving everything time to drain, but it has started up again in earnest just now. I opened the door to let the dog out and the most wonderful smell came in with the mist of rain - woodsmoke. It’s 58 degrees, cool and rainy and time for the fires of fall.

I stood in the doorway breathing in the cool mist and the smell and suddenly missing the hundreds of weekends I spent camping in the rain in my life. Huddled in a tent or under a tarp with a campfire hissing and blazing only yards away, the smokey fragrance blowing in and around me, I’d curl up in a sleeping bag with a good book, or sleep (as I did most of today). Those were the best of times for sure.

Even when I was living in the van and homeless, rainy days were awesome. Even though the van leaked and I had to place plastic bags to divert the flow away from the bed and the driver’s seat, the sheer bliss of knowing I had a bed, a warm sleeping bag, a cooler with all the fixings for baloney sandwiches and bottled water, and a safe haven in the van was amazing. My animals would curl up on the bed with me while I read and listened to the sound of rain on the metal roof. Being rich is having those memories and good times. And by good times I mean being safe, warm, dry and often even fed. In today’s world, and the coming world, that is such a gift.

I hope you have a fireplace and a fire going now. Failing that, I hope you have a bed, a warm blanket or sleeping bag, and the ability to sleep through a driving rain in comfort, warmth, dryness and safety.