Photograph of my sketchbook by Hannah Foley. All right reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).Yesterday evening dark rain clouds gathered and the heavens opened. Water rattled along the gutters and rushed through the downpipes. Our water butt was quickly full to overflowing. We have a funny old lean-to on the back of our house and it’s the perfect place to listen to rain. It’s just got a single sheet of clear corrugated plastic for a roof, with large gaps underneath the roof overhang. Every morning the windowsill is covered in a fresh flurry of seeds and garden debris carried in on the breeze. It’s an in-between space, part of the house and part of the garden all at once. Sitting on the kitchen step listening to the bouncing rain yesterday evening, it was like sitting in a tent. The world fell silent as every living thing raced for shelter, all that is, except for two cheeky crows. They pranced around on our neighbours’ garage roof, cawing to each other, seeming to delight in boisterously defying the weather by strutting their stuff in the rain.

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