I absolutely love the rain. I know that if I lived in a place where it rained all the time, then I would be absolutely sick of it, but I live in San Diego. San Diego with it's eternally 75 degree weather and clear blue skies. Where our main stages of weather are shorts and a flip flops or "Oh, it's a bit chilly, maybe I should put a light jacket on along with my shorts and flip flops."
My friend got a puppy, and at age three, it went outside in the rain and just about near had a heart attack. It stopped dead, mid trot through the doggy door and its face clearly said "Water?? From the SKY?? WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT??"
This is why I love the rain; it feels like a rare gift.
I love the smell of rain, heavy and lingering in the air like clean perfume on a cloudy day. And that dusky light filtering through gathering clouds makes me watch the sky eagerly.
Then, when it breaks, rain scattering from the sky like clear marbles spilling out of a broken glass jar. They scatter over the ground, turning dirt and pavement dark and turning green plants to glistening neon.
When it rains, I can turn off any music or TV, and just listen to the sounds of it bouncing around on my roof and rushing through my gutters. I'll curl up in bed and watch it run over the fogging glass of my window, or sit in my living room and stare through the siding glass door at the rippling waves filling my pool.
And when I get to go outside? I relish in being able to put my boots on, maybe even a scarf or a hat! I go outside, carrying an umbrella, simply due to the fact that I have an excuse to, but I don't bother to open it.
I walk slowly, face occasionally turning upwards. The barrage of raindrops makes my eyelids blink and flinch, making the image of churning gray clouds flicker like the image on a dying television set.
I let my clothes soak through, and my hair gets wet and clings to my face. And after I finish my errand, I go home and pull my waterlogged clothes off, letting them flop wetly into the dryer. I pull on some dry clothes, put my hair up into a towel, grab myself a good book and a hot drink, and watch the rain from my window.
My friend got a puppy, and at age three, it went outside in the rain and just about near had a heart attack. It stopped dead, mid trot through the doggy door and its face clearly said "Water?? From the SKY?? WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT??"
This is why I love the rain; it feels like a rare gift.
I love the smell of rain, heavy and lingering in the air like clean perfume on a cloudy day. And that dusky light filtering through gathering clouds makes me watch the sky eagerly.
Then, when it breaks, rain scattering from the sky like clear marbles spilling out of a broken glass jar. They scatter over the ground, turning dirt and pavement dark and turning green plants to glistening neon.
When it rains, I can turn off any music or TV, and just listen to the sounds of it bouncing around on my roof and rushing through my gutters. I'll curl up in bed and watch it run over the fogging glass of my window, or sit in my living room and stare through the siding glass door at the rippling waves filling my pool.
And when I get to go outside? I relish in being able to put my boots on, maybe even a scarf or a hat! I go outside, carrying an umbrella, simply due to the fact that I have an excuse to, but I don't bother to open it.
I walk slowly, face occasionally turning upwards. The barrage of raindrops makes my eyelids blink and flinch, making the image of churning gray clouds flicker like the image on a dying television set.
I let my clothes soak through, and my hair gets wet and clings to my face. And after I finish my errand, I go home and pull my waterlogged clothes off, letting them flop wetly into the dryer. I pull on some dry clothes, put my hair up into a towel, grab myself a good book and a hot drink, and watch the rain from my window.
