The other night I went to see
Twelfth Night in the park. At the end of the (wonderful, very funny) play, the rain came down, glittering in the lights against the dark circle of over head trees as the cast sang a song with a rainy refrain.
This weekend I visited my garden. The bounty is thus:
2 comments:
Here in the deep South, we've suffered for several years with a hideous drought. After seeing everything dry up and die, watching rivers wither to dry beds, and hiking up to see waterfalls that were no longer there, I will never again whine about the rain.
Twelfth Night is may favorite Shakespeare play. It's certainly a lot more entertaining than all his dour historical stuff. I love the fact that its subtitled "Or What You Will"
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