Downpour.

{They had all the appearance of large steppingstones.}


{A fortunate leap.}

Grey clouds loomed overhead heralding storm’s imminent arrival and from weekend vantage point indoors on the couch pushed up to the window, I thought it must be later than the afternoon. It seemed like early evening to my non watch-wearing self. I bid farewell to my companions in the German beer hall I found myself in as I put down my borrowed copy of Patrick Leigh Fermor’s A Time of Gifts and headed to the front door. Outside giant hailstones were falling, and they were “the size of lemons” some later said. The rain poured steadily, rapidly, and poor Frank, the neighbourhood cat, howled in fear from his soggy, ill-considered spot beneath a parked car. In a puddle, wet and distressed, crying like a child, Frank cut a sorry figure. Louise and a neighbour tried their best to coax him out and finally succeeded in scooping him to the safety of a drier place. Our neighbour took him inside, tucked under her wing, a towel slung across her shoulder. Inside I imagined her drying off Frank and her other wet cats caught, it would seem, unawares. The gutters filled quickly and the streetlights came on, an autumn downpour (in the extreme) to awaken me from familiar state of Saturday drowsiness. A scene painted to match the elements of Mother Nature conjured in my current read.

+ Foxes are coming. Look to issue 5 of UPPERCASE magazine.