Barbara shot all these while she rode the Amtrak Pacific Surfliner Train from San Diego to Los Angeles, a week or so ago.

And here, a classic poem about rain, There Will Come Soft Rains by Sara Teasdale

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Happy Sunday.

Philip Glass ~ Heroes Symphony

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