I was woken from my slumbers this morning, as I am on many mornings, by the dawn chorus songs of blackbird and... wood pigeon? To be fair, they sounded as sleepy as I had just been.
However, instead of dropping off into the land of nod again, to await the strident call of an alarm clock, I remained conscious, dimly aware that there was another sound to be heard. A soft, gentle sound, not unlike the falling of rain.
Sweet, sweet rain. It's back!
Following weeks of dry weather, the hottest day for seven years and possibly the warmest night since 1990 (according to the Beeb), life has returned to normal with the soft weeping of the sky.
I stood by a window and savoured the return of the prodigal cloud. After a few minutes, the intensity of the rainfall increased and the land was treated to a short burst of heavy precipitation. Gutters and downpipes gurgled with glee, vegetation shivered in anticipation of a thirst quenched, whilst I smiled and sighed.
Soon, all too soon, the gentle pitter patter resumed once more and I returned to bed. Before I fell asleep again, I recall hearing a joyful wren singing its heart out, followed by a distant rumble of thunder. After a few seconds, the wren launched into an ever more defiant song, but this time it was answered by a gentle snoring at my side.