Rain, rain. In the early mornings, before it is light, we all lay in the big bed with the windows wide open and the heated mattress pad turned on. The rain falls on the leaves, a constant tip-tapping. The breeze is cold and wet but we are warm. Amelia rests her cheek on my belly. I stroke her back and her tiny fingernails stroke my arm. I dare not move lest she move. I want her to stay. There are pillows and pets in every space. We talk about buying a little cabin in the woods near the mountain, so she can grow up with trees and pine needles and wood smoke and the sounds of the mountain creek, with snow in the winter and ski poles and snowshoes, with campfires in summer, sleepovers in the panelled loft, wildflowers in a jar on the windowsill next to her bed, sunlight filtered through the endless trees, sand on the floor where she puts her bare feet. I want that for her, for us. I pull out the computer in the dark and check the real-estate listings. The screen glows with moss-covered Forest Service cabins. This one has a porch. This one has a river-rock fireplace. This one is awful. They ruined it. This one would be perfect. Dream. She sleeps and breathes. My hands on her small body, feeling her breathe in the dark before rain-dawn.
We can't complain about the weather, when so much of the country is suffering, but it is cold and again cold, and sopping wet. It feels like green winter. Andy says that people have big gardens here because it makes you appreciate the rain; the gardens are happy, and that makes you happy. But for the cold. Everything is drenched and glistening, heavy with flowers. The peonies slump in the yard. The grass is half-drowned. The pavement is dark and shiny. I check the beet seeds daily. Chioggia and Bull's Blood. Nothing yet. It's Friday, the end of a long week. I imagine myself crawling under the duvet cover at the end of the day and watching my TiVo-ed episodes of Nigella Forever Summer. As soon as I turn on my side, I'll be asleep. If I have time tomorrow, I'll make some frothy dresses for Amelia. Clothes like summer flowers, to wear when it gets warm.