So, I’ve talked about this topic before, from a slightly different angle. But it’s been raining a lot where I am, so I’m having a hard time thinking about other things.
There’s something about rain that feels… obstructive… or unfriendly to me. When I was younger, and had nowhere to go in particular, I was happy to splash around in it. Now, if I can, I stay inside. If I can’t stay inside, I’m looking out the window, and not seeing raindrops gleaming photogenically on leaves, but the logistics of umbrellas, appropriate shoes, roads that won’t be flooded, and so on.
From time to time, I love the rain despite the difficulties it presents. Do you find the inconvenience outweighs the flash of lightning, roll of thunder, and clean breeze? Or do you love the drama of it?
If you’ve ever spent some time in central Texas, you know it doesn’t rain much. Drought is almost a season. (Spring, Summer, Drought, Fall. Repeat. There is no Winter.) But sometimes it rains. When it’s only drizzling, or a quick temper tantrum of a shower, the water drains into the thirsty, cracked dirt and any puddles evaporate in the returning sun.
And then there are downpours like punishment. Or steady, constant rain that stretches on and on… These times, puddles collect everywhere, making sidewalks impassable, and the earth around them soggy and an even worse choice. The ground refuses to absorb any more, like an overfull sponge. And the puddles grow into ponds.
Even in an open space with a web of sidewalks, puddles encroach on any possible path like the ghosts in Pac-Man. It sometimes feels like they’re out to get you while you’re trying to see a way clear, doubling back and retracing your steps, turning corners only to be halted again by an expanse of rippling water. Rain boots are your power pellets. With them, your way opens up, and you can actually get where you’re going. (And I’m leaving the simile there, because if you try to eat those puddles you deserve whatever happens to you.)