I know this makes me weird and gets me a lot of strange looks, but I love the rainfall.
Right now, in my little corner of the world, it’s raining. It’s been raining all day, and was raining most of the night. I love the sound of the rain as it drops over the ground. The rhythmic pattern of the tattoo as it cascades on the earth is calming, soothing, serene. Occasionally, a car will splash through and ruin the illusion. Part of me is tempted to go find a secluded area somewhere and just … listen. There is nothing so placid, so peaceful to me as the sound of rain falling in a yellow wood somewhere. That not being possible, however, I try to just let the sound of the rain drown out everything else and bring me that sense of ease and rest that nothing else can.
With the heavy overcast and leaden skies, the world feels more like it does in autumn than summer now. Autumn is my absolute favorite time of year. The softness of the light and the subdued earth- and jewel-toned leaves as the world prepares for sleep, the crisp, cleanness of the air, the cerulean skies when it’s not raining, the way the very earth itself sounds — it’s the time of year to which I look forward most. The sound of the leaves skittering and rolling away on the breeze, the gentle caress of the temperatures as they begin their decline toward the frigidity of winter, the crunch of the grass beneath my feet … it makes me long for time when I don’t have to work during the day, for a place where I can be alone when I need to, for the joy of just being in the embrace of the drowsy world as it readies itself for a long nap until spring.
The soft padding of the moist ground, not yet frozen, feels so joyous and friendly. I can forget how full of hatred and destruction the world is in autumn. I can ignore, briefly, the pressing matters of living which hold no regard for seasons, days and months. I can be at rest, listening to a crackling fire and smelling the embers. I can feel the anticipation of nature as it either scurries to make ready for winter or slows toward its slumber. I love the sight, the very essence of how light is refracted from our yellow sun, during those months when things smell so clean, so fresh, so wet with new-fallen rain.
The rain brings so much to mind as it runs its course from heaven to splash and dance upon the ground before running into tiny rivulets and chasing away to become part of a larger one. I can watch for hours as it pitter-patters out of the sky, leaving a clean smell, a newness to the places it goes, and I wish when it does that it would never cease, never slow, but continue its soft, steady beat until my mind has solace.
I sit and listen, smiling briefly in my tormented soul.
Then I get a damned sinus headache and have to go get my Excedrin.