It is a dreary, rainy old day. I would love to celebrate it by sitting on the porch of a cabin, deep in the hills. A cabin too far from the road to hear the sound of cars and traffic.
Come, sit with me in an old ladder back rocker, Shaker made and as ancient as the cabin itself. We'll sit and occasionally talk. Mostly we'll listen to the dance of raindrops on the tin roof of the porch, the squeak of the rocker or the chain holdin' the porch swing I sit in.
As we look out into the woods our attention will be drawn to the drops of water collectin' on leaves, already glorious from the fall weather. Today we'll hold our breath an' count the seconds as one drop collects an' finally falls to the ground where is is quickly gone, sipped up by the hungry earth below.
While you sit, almost dozin' from the peacefulness, I'll sneak in an' make a pot of coffee the old time way, boiled in a pot...strong an heady. We'll sip hot coffee to warm us up an' maybe we'll even need a couple of them quilts stored carefully in the old trunk back yonder in the dogtrot bedroom to wrap up in an' keep the chill off.
An apple, a sweet peach, a chunk of cheese an' some soda crackers on an ol' plate fill us as we do just nothin' but enjoy an ol' rainy, dreary day in the woods...deep in the hills back home.
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