Walking Dog this morning in the rain, and for a moment I was back in soggy old England. The climate in this part of Vancouver Island occasionally reminds me of the land of my birth, especially when it's wet and grey. Like games of cricket when rain was forever stopping play back in the 60's and 70's. Standing under awnings with a steaming mug of tea in my hand, watching the splashes as the downpour prevented play. Then there's the greenery of it all, although the tree species are different, and in BC the whole place is wall to wall trees. Sometimes the smell of natural Pine and damp earth in the forest is simply overwhelming.
If you just half close your eyes, you could be back in rural England somewhere near the Welsh borders. Maybe even western lowland Scotland.
Then a bloody great Bald Eagle flies overhead.
I live in Canada. Never fails to put a smile on my face.