and on the unrighteous alike. Whatever we are, here in Somerset, we get rained on a lot. A lot!
Water rushes down from the moors and fields, creating mud, making every little lane a delight to the weather-and-waterproof dog, and a sore trial to the little short-legged one.
From here it careers downhill to the brook, turning it into a cocoa-coloured mini-torrent that shouts rather than babbles. Sometimes the water just rushes past my front door, and I am thankful for that slate step up into the house.
Despite the ever-present mud, living somewhere so mild and damp has ample compensations.
Spring doesn't hang around in the wings, too shy to put out her early flags.
And it's rainbow country.
Yet another reason to love it.