Last night, I sat on the couch, thumbing through my October issue of Martha Stewart, while Mr. Michie graded papers. All of the sudden there was a resounding rumble of thunder and the heavens opened.

Mr. Michie went to grab the matches, so we could light a few candles in case the power went out and I opened the door to peer outside.

Mr. Michie came¬†up behind me and asked me, “If the rain was dancing? I love it when it dances on the pavement!”. I love him even more for saying that! And, indeed it was dancing. The air had turned icy and clean smelling and the rain was dancing by the glow of the street lamps.