Sometimes it Rains

We recently wrapped up a week of perfectly dreary weather. It was all things I am very happy doing without. The days were gray with highs hovering in the low 60’s. The rain came easy, steady, relentless. It is January and it is the time of year for this soul-stealing rain. It changes people. When you live in a place known for its perfect weather, it implies that it doesn’t rain. Mostly that is true. And when it doesn’t  rain, you get used to it. Sure, it’s dry and plants require extra care and things get dusty, but you get used to it. You adjust. You learn to live differently. You do things outside. You spend time on patios at restaurants, bars, home, work. You cook outside. You leave your windows open all day for the warmth and fresh air. The sun warms your soul, emboldens your spirit. You laugh harder and live louder.

But it does rain, in these winter months when the days are too short, allowing the grayness to sneak in. It changes you. It pours in like fog, coating everything in liquid sadness. It slows the world. In cars, people drive strangely cautious as if the streets have turned to ice. Public places are suddenly empty empty and quiet. People remain at home, safe from the falling gloom. Words are whispered if spoken at all. The world is slightly askew. With rain, roads turn to to rivers, sinkholes open and swallow things whole. The landscape changes. The hills come alive, turn green; lush. Trees are refreshed and appear brighter. The rain, desperately needed, arrives in waves, relentless at first, pounding, wind howling, then slows to a steady flow. It takes days for it to ease, the clouds to roll and pass, and then sunlight breaks. The world cooled, newly energized. We start to go outside again, to soak up rays on warm winter days.