After the rain the sun, after the sun the rain.

It started slowly. A quiet and then a splash. A drop falling on a leaf and the leaf flicked like a lizard tail. Then more, still light, whispers of water. Later the sky grew dark and the raindrops grew heavy and the leaves on the trees danced in the falling rain, a frenzied dance to the music of storm. The wind blew and the spears of rain began to slant across the land. Rain washed over the roof like waves in the wind and we curled inside and waited, warm, together. It played a loud lullaby over the tiles and we dreamed of being ships cats as the wind shook and rolled around the house. At the window the world became fragmented by raindrops. Still the sky was heavy with water. Night and day we saw no moon, no stars. Water ran down the path, turning it to a babbling stream. The salt wind burned and ripped the leaves from the ash tree. All of the mice stayed secret in burrows and the swallows grew hungry, trapped by the weight of falling water, unable to fly.
And then it stopped. The clouds rolled away to show a sky washed to a sparkling bright blue. In the sunshine the world looked fresh and the roses again dropped perfume to fill the garden. Martha found shelter from the tail of the wind in a sunshine patch on the blue bench and slept. Sleeping outside is always better.
We were rested and the mice were careless with hunger.