Beauty is Born...

"Beauty is born of the rain..." A line from a poem written by my father that I once knew by heart...once spoke as a prelude to a dance. Right now I am tired, and my memory not at its best, but that's alright, because the one line is all I need to accompany these photos of Pearl. Pearl in a blissfully contemplative moment beside this puddle born of an overnight storm that included hail. (She had not been peaceful during that hail's assault on the house.) But Pearl is very much in the now, and this now is a puddle to drink from or to hover above in calm acceptance of her lot in life.

Extras are this one in Mono, and another with the little cat tongue in evidence.