It's a good day. The Beanery was quiet when I arrived at 8. Two and a half hours later, people have crowded it with eating, drinking and chatting and the clink of silverware and glasses. Toasted panninis and melted cheese scents add other sensory layers. 

The walk down was a little cold and wet but the heavy rain and dramatic winds hammering us have abated. I've been drenched when arriving here the last three days. Today's sky is lighter, more of its normal winter hue, that is to say, dark gray on lighter gray with whiffs of softer gray shadows. 

At least the daylight was normal this morning, compared to say, Thursday, when 9 AM seemed like 6 AM, dark and still awaiting dawn. We didn't suffer the heavy snow that Seattle and other parts of the northwest endured, except up in the Mountains. The barrista going off went snowboarding yesterday up on Mount Ashland. He's heading there again today, seizing the moment, since there's been little snow this winter in our region. 

The rain and wind, while threatening, broke seasonal routines and seemed to release new energies. I sat outside on the covered porch, a glass of port at hand, yesterday afternoon after work, and listened to the rain's hammering as trees drunkenly swatted one another and the wind howled protests. The cats were not as accepting, except Lady. She took a glance outside and decided, that as a housecat, she shouldn't suffer adverse weather.  The boys, being macho, went out to prove that they are animals, and something like the weater wasn't going to stop them.

Scheckter, being a cat of the world, a former barn cat and a hunter, went out, got drenched and returned within half an hour, loudly decrying his sorry wet state, something he did a few times. Quinn stayed out for hours yesterday, forcing me to look for him after he didn't respond to the usual calls. My wife joined the hunt. She, being more clever, brought a box of kibble. Rattling the box brought Quinn out of hiding. I don't know where he was, only that, with a meow, he was suddenly between us on the porch and ready to go in. He was also dry.

The storm marked our streets with fallen tree branches and collected piles of debris where suddenly heavy gutter streams had swept them together, but the day feels more like cold early spring. I'll write a while longer here - I still have over half of my Beanery remaining - before walking home. Then I think I'll find a book and read. I want something light. I might go find the second "Dresden Files" book by Jim Butcher. My wife probably has chores and errands planned. I don't know. She hasn't mentioned anything but her mind is a perpetual churn. I think I can convince her to go the book store and coffee house instead. Maybe we'll do it all. We'll see.

It doesn't matter. Whatever we decide to do, it's a good day.