A young girl in an old tree–my Bea up in one of the magnificent trees to be found close to us on the Olympic Peninsula! Imagine the rain that this sinuous tree has sipped and gulped over the two or three hundred years. I hope to do the same with the endless winter rain (while so many of you play in the snow, we pull on our rain boots and slosh through puddles). I feel no temptation to muck in the garden or sit outside with a glass of lemonade, counting butterflies. Instead, rain is good for long days of writing, to banish the grey within and the grey without!