In January, it was snowing in the morning and I was reading Persuasion.  I imagined it was raining in June.  By noon, it was just windy; I imagined the wind was the kind August sun and I was reading Persuasion. I talked to my friend in Spokane who said it was raining there on a Saturday.  I imagined Spokane was in the Red River Valley and the rain was falling upward for two Sunday afternoons in a row and I was reading Persuasion in church.  Then, while I sat there in the sunlit chapel with the rain crawling into the clouds, I imagined a quiet conversation, a peaceful fireplace, snow, and January.  I laid my book down for a good long while because this imagination was simply the one I enjoyed best.