I love the rain when it starts up in the middle of the night, cools the house down to a nice not-tossing-in-your-own-sweat-while-you-sleep temperature, nestles you in the soft pitter-patter of happy fat raindrop dreams, silences the unending whirl-a-gig cicada screech-song, batters down the mosquitos biting and biting and biting. Then waking up and look! the heavens have come down for a visit, angelic whisps of cloud cling to mountain escarpments, the white and green of cedar punctured clouds delivering food for bamboo, shiitake, ferns, moss and lichens, the deep emerald mountains misty-eyed and otherworldy in the soft morning light. Later driving up and up and up Mount Kokuso on a BMW ad road, daydreams of swelled rivers, rolling waves and quiet pools, passing the time stuck behind a dumptruck rumbling and sputtering black fumes down the mountain into Susaki. Finally watching the rain falling and falling and falling, wanting outside and what I saw this morning.