The droplets fell from the unfixable gutter with a tabla's rhythm. Two attempts prior, once by The Gutter Giants and once by handyman Jim (or John, I forget), had not been enough to quell its guttural(!) rebellion. The glowing readout from my backyard weather station informed me that this rain event was surpassing 1 full inch of rain. My two interconnected rainbarrels
were likely on the verge of overflowing overflowed.
If you close your eyes in a rain storm like this one, a downpour but not quite a tempest, you can coerce your auditory faculties to transform the sparse white noise of the raindrops into the creaks and groans of an 18th century brigantine. In fact, if you lean into this brain trickery, you can almost start to feel the house around you ever so slightly sway.
I'd be ecstatic for the rain if it were not accompanied by a drop into the 40s. Instead I'm merely glad that my barrels will be filled. My vegetable garden, especially the corn and bean bushes, will guzzle up the water, but I'm not sure how the pumpkins and peppers will manage the brief chill.