(no subject)

My first memory of rain is of Ecuador. I remember sitting on a stile, watching pigs graze, enjoying one of the twenty days of sun, when suddenly; everything around me was ankle deep in water. Then, the pounding sweep of rain as the first edge of the monsoon caught up with the flood.

Since then, I’ve heard stories of the flash flood, how it ruined the crops, and the beehives washed two miles downhill, or how my parents rushed around looking for me before finding me comfortably ensconced at a neighbors house. But what I remember is the feeling of complete otherness the whole world had. For a few minutes, I was an island in a strange land, and it was the coolest thing ever.

So, despite the fact that it's ruined my plans for the weekend, destroyed my art project du jour, and postponed my laundry doing duties (…this may not be a downside) I can't find it in my heart to be less than thrilled at the four hours of rain we got last night. Four hours of rain! Hard rain! Soaking-into-the-ground sort of rain. Flash-floods-in-the-mountains sort of rain.

I don’t know anyone as weather crazy as I am, even here in the land of no-precipitation-ever-thanks, but I can’t seem to contain myself. It’s nothing short of thrilling to see rain coming down from blue skies, or to see the color of an entire vista change in one afternoon. I don’t care so much when I’m not in the desert, but here, it’s lovely beautiful, amazing and I love it. We go so quickly from yellow to green and back that the mind boggles.

So that was my rant about the weather, for today. In other news, the woman who wrote the poem "Sewing as a Parental Comparison" is obviously talking about my family.
( Read it here. )