Where The Wet One Went

Cloudsdale is back in our neighborhood, sending in some light spring showers. Dandelion greens and trout lily leaves are plentiful once again. The pastures are looking enticing. I stepped out on the smaller side balcony during a pause between books. I stood in the light rain and watched the shifting wet curtain play over the green fields until my coat grew heavy with water and my mane was plastered to my neck. I shook out most of the water and went down the hallway to the kitchen for a hot cup of mint tea. Leaving a trail of round wet hoof tracks along the way.