There's something beautiful about every season.

A perfect overcast day, my husband's favorite weather.
'Yeah, perfect.' I reply to him without really meaning it.
Past 3 weeks were productive, this week, isn't.

I've been doodling around in the house, occasionally going about dancing for a while waiting for my energy and motivation level to lift, doesn't look to be helping at this point.
There's no point doing the laundry, today's not the right day for steam cleaning.

Do I still remember my noble resolution to do the housework properly two days a week? Yeah- but. I really hope the weather will improve soon, otherwise I can't do much other than vacuuming.

About 10 minutes ago I suddenly remembered the coriander, sweet basil and parsley seeds I sewn a while ago. To my huge disappointment they haven't seedled yet. The instruction told that germination will take 6-10 days. Isn't this about time?

Only time I truly appreciate overcast days is the time I weed the garden while I watch flowers, vegies and herbs thriving around me.
I'm becoming increasingly concerned about the herbs. It could've been easier to plant the seedlings.
It rained a little overnight and grass is still wet. I've totally forgotten about bringing in the yet-to-dry clothes on clotheslines, partly because I had no more space inside to dry the clothes (those in front of the heater are still moist.)

Strangely, as I go on whinging about how inconvenient the weather is, I started seeing something beautiful in the whole picture. :D

Wet clothes on the backyard Hill's Hoist
Weeds popping everywhere
Pop Pop Pop
Light Drizzle brushes against my cheek
In the lounge it's warm and snuggly
Moist clothes hanging on the edge
of a coffee table
With a gas heater lights up the dim room

It's something typical of this time of the year - and there's always something to celebrate or appreciate.

Now I think I know the beauty my husband sees in the overcast weather.