The rain is gentle but persistent. Its friendly rain and I like it so much. I can almost see the trees and flowers in our little garden reaching out for it. The birds are enjoying it too; shaking out their dripping feathers and fighting over our scraps of morning toast.

Its the perfect rain to watch from indoors, with a warm cup of tea and a slice of almond cream cake; to read a favourite book and hear it gently hit against the windows; to quietly sit with a piece of clay and let whatever creature that lies just beyond sight but within sense come into being, as my boys lie asleep on the sofa, exhausted, wellington boots discarded and socks slightly damp from playing in this cheerful, generous, blessed rain ...

Whenever it rains like this I get the feeling of being on holiday, for whenever we go to Cornwall there comes a day, no matter how blisteringly hot the days were before or after, when this sort of rain comes in from the Sea, borne by dark clouds so low you feel you could almost touch them.

I write with this feeling fresh in my mind, for we've just come back from Cornwall. We took a week down there to show our boys Bodmin, Tintagel, and all the gorgeous sights that North Cornwall has to offer, and to be there for the 3 Wishes Faery Fest. It was a different holiday to the kind their father and I used to take - little legs could not make it to The Hurlers or Golitha Falls. Buggy rides across craggy moor and rushing stream were just not possible. But what they did see was exciting for them; exciting for us too, as we saw old haunts through new eyes.

The Sun was kind all week and waited until the start of the Faery Fest to disappear and let that rain that I remember come in. In the way we Brits are famed for we persevered and I believe a good time was had by all ...

But today, sat by the window, watching fat drops blur the glass and slide off my roses, I remember the drip drip sound of water falling from pine trees, and the feel of mud squelching between my toes, all sparkling with the washed-off glitter from many faery faces...

This rain has brought this memory with it. I think it followed us from the moors ...