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Apr. 22nd, 2003 03:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zyadaI love the rain
OK, there are times when I don’t love rain – when it’s been raining every day for three weeks, or when I need to work on the garden, or when it’s two degrees above freezing and the rain is making you even colder. But even a cold rainy day is nice if you can light a fire and curl up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate.
A nice slow soft spring rain is lovely. There’s a gentle susurrus of sound just at the edge of your hearing, with the occasional slightly louder shhhhhhhhhh of a car driving past on a wet street. The water makes every bit of green in the landscape intensify. If I don’t care what I look like, I sometimes go outside and let the rain fall on me, feeling like I am getting the same infusion of life that the plants get from the rain. I love to plant in gentle rains – it’s good for the plants, but the rain heightens the smell of the wet earth, the colors, the feel of the breeze, and adds another dimension of touch as the rain drops hit your skin lightly, like fingers tapping against your body. I’m chilled just to that point of pleasurable discomfort, and a long hot bath feels even better against my chilled dirty skin. As a very rare treat, I have traveled to a rain forest a few times. The constant rain make a richness of life – it’s like the very air shimmers with life, and you can feel what Spielburg called “The Force” flowing over and through you.
The best rain though, comes with thunderstorms. Rain that goes from a bare sprinkle one moment to blindingly hard the next, tangles of lightning across the sky, or clouds flashing with random bursts of brightness, thunder ranging from a distant rumble to that anticipatory crackle that warns you that the next instant you’ll be deafened from the sound as the real thunder hits your house and rattles the windows. With thunderstorms come thunderheads, dramatic clouds immeasurably tall in roils of bluish–gray. (And sometimes greenish–gray.) A good thunderstorm fills the world with water and light and sound, and then passes on to leave wet grass and quiet.
Once on a trip in the desert (in Arizona, IIRC), we were at the bottom of a cliff when a thunderstorm passed through. After the storm, we took the road up the side of the cliff to the top of the mesa. Up there, it had hailed, leaving a layer of white ice pellets on the ground. We stopped and I got out of the car. The heat of the desert was causing the hail to evaporate, and the hail had bruised the sagebrush as it fell. It was a world of mist and the perfume of sage, white ice, desert and blue sky. It was a magical moment, and a cherished memory.
OK, there are times when I don’t love rain – when it’s been raining every day for three weeks, or when I need to work on the garden, or when it’s two degrees above freezing and the rain is making you even colder. But even a cold rainy day is nice if you can light a fire and curl up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate.
A nice slow soft spring rain is lovely. There’s a gentle susurrus of sound just at the edge of your hearing, with the occasional slightly louder shhhhhhhhhh of a car driving past on a wet street. The water makes every bit of green in the landscape intensify. If I don’t care what I look like, I sometimes go outside and let the rain fall on me, feeling like I am getting the same infusion of life that the plants get from the rain. I love to plant in gentle rains – it’s good for the plants, but the rain heightens the smell of the wet earth, the colors, the feel of the breeze, and adds another dimension of touch as the rain drops hit your skin lightly, like fingers tapping against your body. I’m chilled just to that point of pleasurable discomfort, and a long hot bath feels even better against my chilled dirty skin. As a very rare treat, I have traveled to a rain forest a few times. The constant rain make a richness of life – it’s like the very air shimmers with life, and you can feel what Spielburg called “The Force” flowing over and through you.
The best rain though, comes with thunderstorms. Rain that goes from a bare sprinkle one moment to blindingly hard the next, tangles of lightning across the sky, or clouds flashing with random bursts of brightness, thunder ranging from a distant rumble to that anticipatory crackle that warns you that the next instant you’ll be deafened from the sound as the real thunder hits your house and rattles the windows. With thunderstorms come thunderheads, dramatic clouds immeasurably tall in roils of bluish–gray. (And sometimes greenish–gray.) A good thunderstorm fills the world with water and light and sound, and then passes on to leave wet grass and quiet.
Once on a trip in the desert (in Arizona, IIRC), we were at the bottom of a cliff when a thunderstorm passed through. After the storm, we took the road up the side of the cliff to the top of the mesa. Up there, it had hailed, leaving a layer of white ice pellets on the ground. We stopped and I got out of the car. The heat of the desert was causing the hail to evaporate, and the hail had bruised the sagebrush as it fell. It was a world of mist and the perfume of sage, white ice, desert and blue sky. It was a magical moment, and a cherished memory.
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no subject
Date: 2003-04-22 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-22 03:05 pm (UTC)