The Rainforest. Adjusting to winter rain on the West Coast.

This morning is just a slightly lighter version of the long dark rainy night but it is high time I let the chickens out of their raccoon-proof house. I slip on my '`lastic-sided' boots and walk out hatless and in my shirtsleeves. Just too lazy to suit up for such a short walk, I feel the drops on my bare head and thinning hair. This is cold and wet but also intimate. I feel the rain in a way that I would not if protected by layers of waterproofing.

The almost-dark, the mist in the trees, the squawk of awakened bantams and their scramble to exit their small door feels more real as a result.

Winter is scarce begun but our woodsmoke regularly adds its aroma and scarf of blue to the sky and softens the outline of overhanging trees. We are adjusting once again to life in the rainforest and what I have experienced in the semi dawn is one more step towards living fully within this world. Those first wet days after a summer of drought, blue skies and brilliant light make me bundle up protectively against the onslaught and it has taken this morning in the rain to make the next step towards my full acceptance of winter.

Bring on the midwinter darkness, the windstorms and slashing rain, I am ready to take the plunge.