As I drove home from work the other night, fat drops of rain splattered across the windshield, almost but not quite fast enough to keep the wipers on steady. The white noise of their impacts faded into the background of the radio, doing a fair impression of static, just under conscious awareness. Between the uniform gray cloud cover and snippets of overheard forecasts, I knew I could expect a wet weekend. That’s OK with me. I like rain.
There’s nothing like a good rainy day.
There’s something about a good rainy day, or a rainy night for that matter. Each one has its own character, its own flavor, from the fury of a thunderstorm to the glittering beauty left after an ice storm. This kind of rain, however, is my all-time favorite: a good, slow, steady soaker, the kind that waters the land. This year, we have received all the rain we could ask for (sorry, California), without getting carried away by it (sorry, Texas). The corn stands tall, lush and green where in drier years it would be shriveled and yellow. There is a trade off, though. These steady storms have made haying, grain harvesting and lawn mowing tricky. You just can’t have all things all the time.
This wheat straw will have to wait to be baled.
Have you ever noticed how rain seems to affect time, slowing the clock and washing away life’s frantic pace? What could be better than curling up in an easy chair by an open window, sipping a cup of hot tea with the dogs at your feet as the rain serenades you? Even better, you soon find that it’s good sleeping weather. It’s easy to dose off to the drumming of raindrops on the roof. When I’m on my night shift rotation at work, rainy days are a blessing; I can sleep so much better with the low light and background sounds of a good slow rain.
After the rain, the air sparkles like crystal.
The morning after brings its own beauty to the table, having scrubbed the air clean as sparkling crystal. Don’t you just love the way the early morning sun beams through the remaining clouds, creating a warm glowing counterpoint to a suddenly crisp atmosphere? This particular morning felt more like October than June, only without the threat of cold weather to come.
I’ve been calling rainy weather ‘good days to be a duck,’ and it’s true, ducks do seem much happier on a rainy day. Don’t get me wrong, I love bright, sunny days too, but I think the ducks have a point. When it’s a good day to be a duck, it’s a good day, at least to be me.
It’s a good day to be a duck. Or a goose.
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