I love the rain.
I don’t mean I grudgingly appreciate its ecological necessity. I don’t mean I’ve learned to tolerate it. I don’t mean I wait it out, flipping through the calendar to see how many more pages until the sun might break through. I mean I love it.
I love everything about it. I love falling asleep under a down comforter in the dead of winter with the windows thrown open to the hiss of rain. I love waking up to the soft aqueous light that is a painter’s dream and listening to the rush of water in the culvert. I love the thrum of rain against the house on a dark afternoon with potato leek soup simmering on the stove. I love the fine mist on my face, the way my skin feels soft and pliant and new in the rain. I love thinking of words to describe the thick, sodden sky: pearl gray, dove-gray, iron-gray, pewter, ashen, silver, smoke. I love my big green, knee-high Wellies. I love the intermittent wipers on my car.From “I Love the Rain” Laruen Kessler originally published in Oregon Quarterly Winter 2001 http://laurenkessler.com/essays/i-love-the-rain/
I have posted two blogs in the last year and a half that were homage to rain. Like Ms. Kessler, I too love the long-lasting showers that quench the thirst of nature and awaken the happy part the child within me.
How long has it been since I walked in the rain just for the fun of it? About 10 hours! The good feeling that comes to me when raining fills a day goes back to my childhood. I have no idea how those times got fixed in my mine as so wonderful when I was little, but am grateful they did. It is an extraordinary feeling.
I really do love the rain and the misty, overcast days when the hours are drizzled away. I feel safer on such days as even the robbers and burglars are not as likely to be active on a day when it is raining. There is such comfort for me from the constant drizzle and occasional thunder. I feel closer to life, softer inside and memories flow easier for me with a sweeter taste on such a day.
Rain comes in various sizes.
Some rain is as small as a mist.
It tickles your face with surprises,
And tingles as if you’d been kissed.
Some rain is the size of a sprinkle
And doesn’t put out the sun.
You can see the drops sparkle and twinkle,
And a rainbow comes out when it’s done.
When it rains the right size and you’re wrapped in
Your rain clothes, it’s fun out-of-doors.
But run home before you get trapped in
The big rain that rattles and roars
Expressed simply, the rain is my dear friend. It cleanses me. It renews me. It enriches me. I hold rainy days in such high gratitude where I place things most precious to me.
The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected;
I have always considered the rain to be healing — a blanket –
the comfort of a friend. Without at least some rain in any given day,
or at least a cloud or two on the horizon, I feel overwhelmed
by the information of sunlight and yearn for the vital,
muffling gift of falling water.