Ron Arbuckle

I was supposed to drive to the airport tonight. Work trip. But it’s a long drive, and storms are due to roll in later. They’ll probably cancel the flight anyway. It’s not crucial I make the trip out. I’m exhausted, drained. I’ll just teleconference in and call it good. So, I decide to avoid the wet roads. The temptation to spend time in the greenhouse I recently built, listening to the soft plinking of rain, musical in its intonations, is simply too great.