My morning run to the top of Tablerock Hill was exceptional. A warm rain fell through a mist on the Moshassuck River. I caught a rare, close-up glance of a Great Blue Heron as I passed the trail close to the bank.

To me, running in the forest in the rain feels like being on some sense-enhancing drug. The greens are richer and glitter with water. The flowers seem to open up with moist sensuality. The musk of hickory and oak awaken my nostrils as I savor their earthy richness. The sound of the drizzle is the sound of the forest amplified. It is the thirst of silent growing trees, the sudden burst of mushrooms, and graceful yearning of the wildflowers.