The doors and windows are open. The day isn’t cool but isn’t overwhelmingly hot either. We had a tremendous thunderstorm. It woke me up when the thunder cracked above my house which shook just a bit. I then heard the rain drops falling and beating against the window pane. They were my lullaby as I fell back to sleep. I woke to a sunny day. Everything is still wet but the sun will see to that.
When the breeze blows, I can hear drops of water falling off the leaves and hitting the ground as if in mimicry of a gentle summer rain. Earlier, the sun went away for just a bit and the thunder rolled but that was the storm’s last hurrah.
I have always loved summer rain. When I was kid, we ran in the rain and our clothes got soaking wet. We’d stop at every puddle and use our feet to whack the water. It spewed in wide circles. Along the curbside a river sometimes flowed. We’d walk through the river splashing as we went. The water ran fast to the sewer crate.
When the storm ended, we’d stay outside and let the sun dry us. It never took long. The sun always seems to make a speedy recovery after the rain.
Here in New England we have four distinct seasons, and it rains during all four of them; of course, in winter, if it’s cold enough snow falls instead of rain. I like to watch the snow fall, and I love the beauty of the untouched snow covering roads and yards.
We never went outside during a snow storm. It just didn’t have the siren call the summer rain had. It was, I think, because the snow stayed around a while, but the puddles and rivers from the summer rain disappeared quickly under the onslaught of the sun so we had to hurry.
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