Musing in the Rain

Rain.

I sit here this evening, listening to it steadily drone upon the roof. I hear it splash down upon the pavement outside in steady, boring, almost hypnotic monotony. It tinkles against the aluminum roofs of the cars parked outside, which lie lifeless in the dark evening.

There’s something utterly romantic about rain. Maybe it’s the cleansing nature of it, purifying everything upon the earth below, as it washes away the dust and dirt of past days and brings the promise of green grass and blooming flowers tomorrow. Perhaps it’s whatever is in my spirit that’s stirred up by a bit of weather. After all, there’s nothing more exciting than watching a storm roll in and the skies turn gray with heavy-laden clouds, ready to burst. Then there’s the idea of walking around out in the rain, getting soaked and chilled to the bone, but damnit if you don’t feel alive. People talk about dancing and kissing and singing in the rain. I think those visionaries feel the pull of it, too.

Tonight, it’s a chilly May rain, pelting down after a warm, humid morning where the air was thick and still. These are some of the best rains, for you can still feel a bit of the cold winter season that we recently left behind in this kind of rain. It’s not yet the warm soaking rains that a June thunderstorm brings. But it’s a rain full of promise, that only these springtime showers can possess.

All at once, I feel the desire to curl up in bed, perhaps with some hot coffee and a good book, completely content with being warm and dry inside. Then there’s the primal part of me, deep down, filled with the desire to all at once up and leave and go waltzing about in a good pair of leather boots and a thick flannel shirt, becoming completely caught up in the moment and letting the rush of emotions take over as I set off on an adventure.

There’s some sense of smug satisfaction when the latter mood strikes, as I know I am one of the few that will choose to be out in such weather. Common sense dictates the approach to stay inside, lest you get wet and chilled and catch a cold. No sensible person would be out on such a night like this! But I am not like most sensible folk. No, my adventurous spirit longs for moments such as these. It’s a time to refresh myself-my mind, my body and my soul. It’s a beautiful thing, rain. Full of promise, full of life. It’s vital to life, not just for the life-giving nature it brings to farmer’s crops and dried-up streams, but also for reinvigorating a man’s spirit. Rainy days are good days.

Tomorrow is another rain-day. So many possibilities that have yet to be uncovered. Maybe it’s a trout fishing day tomorrow, or maybe I’ll take a walk down my quiet city streets and traipse through the many puddles and stroll through the wet grass. When the day draws to a close and the dusk once again drapes its leaden curtains across the sky and the city lights begin to illuminate the night, I’ll then be content to stare out of the window in my own quiet solitude and drink it all in.