A storm had gathered during the night with torrential rain, the lightning illuminating the clouds.  Through closed eyelids, the on off of the lightning gave a near continuous picture followed with snake-like wriggles spilling and tumbling in a couple-coloured sky.  In the parlance of time, I had longed for scenes like this, as I in childhood sweetly slept, full of thoughts unborn.  By mid-morning the storm had ceased, and the sun began to split the clouds, I could hear the rustle of the wind in the trees close by and the land with rain was now rinsed.  As I followed the sounds everything was descending earthwards, leaves, twigs and acorns, across the cedrous bank the old mossed cottage trees were bent with apples, their fragrance and ripeness filled to the core.