This is a recurring theme with me. I love RAIN. Nothing inspires me, invigorates me, so much as a good soaking rainfall, such as the one I was watching just a few minutes ago. Earlier this morning, I’d seen blue skies, and while other people might have smiled at them, I was disappointed, because if there was ever a week when I truly needed a cozy stay-home-and-nest rainy weekend, this is it.
It’s not so much that anything bad happened, as it’s been a very long, very stressful week, and I’m feeling prickly and tired.
I was happily puttering away at my computer, browsing websites devoted to Great White Sharks because I’m currently reading Twelve Days of Terror by Richard G. Fernicola, M.D. It’s a more scientific look at the series of shark attacks down the New Jersey shore in July, 1916. The same string of attacks I read about last year in the book Close to Shore, which was more about the culture and history than the actual attacks, and felt more like a novel than a historical account. (These are the same attacks that helped inspire Peter Benchley to write Jaws, also.)
I grew up swimming in the water at the beaches mentioned in these books, and in a way, reading about them is like visiting home, seeing pictures of those stately old houses on the sand, seeing the sea of umbrellas below the boardwalk…I can almost smell the hotdogs and cotton candy.
But I digress.
I was reading a website, when I heard Cleo barking, and it took me a few minutes to realize this was REAL barking, not “another dog barked a mile away” barking. So I went to investigate, and found a tremulous poolboy with a large net. The kind of net I associate with fishing boats, and not swimming pools.
I called Cleo inside, and apologized to the pool guy, making a mental note that while an old white t-shirt with no bra under it is FINE for puttering at one’s computer, it’s really not what one should wear while conversing with the pool cleaner. Also, I promised to leave the door closed on Mondays from now on, as Monday is now Pool Cleaning Day. (This works for me quite well.)
I went back to reading about sharks, and beaches, then got sidetracked by the special effects information from my OTHER favorite shark movie, Deep Blue Sea. (IMO, Jaws had the best lines, and was scary because it took place in familiar waters, but Deep Blue Sea was a better film. )
I was brought back into the present by the realization that the light had changed outside my windows, and I smiled, thinking that we might at least get some cloud cover. I opened the blinds further and saw that water was spattering the windows. I released Cleo from the bedroom, and went to investigate the back yard, grinning, even dancing, when I realized how steadily the rain was falling.
I love that I can sit on my back patio and watch the rain, and feel the damp air on my skin, and not get wet. I love that I can walk all the way across the patio (lengthwise) and peer around the corner, only getting wet at the very last minute, to confirm that the gate is closed. I love that Cleo takes as much pleasure in rainstorms as I do, her tail curling over her back in doggy glee, as she barks at the raindrops and plops into puddles. (Zorro hates getting his feet wet, so it was a sign that his bladder was REALLY full when he went out to pee in spite of the rain.)
I stayed out there for a good five minutes, watching the rain fall on the grass, the pavement, the roof, watching the pool water turn choppy, and wishing I still had my grandfather’s old super 8 movie camera (I have a camcorder, but it’s not the same), so I could make disaster films in the pool with model ships and the chlorine-ducky.
And now, I ‘m back inside again, and the blue sky is creeping back into view, but I don’t mind, because the rain has awakened by senses and my synapses, and that ten minute festival of precipitation has helped me to radically improve my mood.
Oh, I still want to nest, but now I’m doing it with a grin.
