Calgary is usually a pretty dry place, but not yesterday.
My bedroom is tucked under the eaves of the house, with a drainpipe running down the wall very close to where I rest my head each night. The sound that carries through the thick wall when it rains is muted down to a distinctive rumble, and when the wind is in the north the patter of the raindrops splattering my window is a pleasant counterpoint.
Three of the rooms also have skylights, which counteract the oppressiveness of a dark day and produce their own gentle music.
At the same time as these subtle sounds make the deserted house a more pleasant place to be on a Friday morning, they also offer an invitation with a note of challenge in it: to venture out in the cold and wind, to see how different the world looks when it receives this special gift.
The colors of tree trunks are darker and more intense when wet.
In the diffused light filtering through the heavy clouds, shadows are almost felt rather than seen.
Objects also cast reflections, even in small puddles.
Last summer, along the trail to Elbow Lake:
I expect that matching these extraordinary greens would be one of the most difficult aspects of painting a rain-washed scene. Have you ever accomplished it? What colors did you mix?