Small Talk

Hey, this weather stuff isn’t so bad

I know it will mean offering apologies. It might even mean I end up living in Seattle or Maine in my next incarnation. But I cannot deny that I really enjoyed this last bunch of rainstorms.
I simply adored lying in bed or sitting in front of the fire listening to the sound of the rain pouring down outside. I even enjoyed it pattering on the skylight at work. It beats the heck out of any Prozac or Valium. I loved hearing the wind howling around the eaves of my house, through the trees and ringing my wind chimes. I relish the smell of the air freshly laundered and I am still cutting the bright spring flowers that popped up in my backyard. I even love the
tousled look the world
takes on with leaves blown everywhere and trees bowing and waving. In short, it was a glorious tonic for me.
But just to balance any major departure from my Eeyore-like personality, underneath all my delight ran a constant current of social conscience. I kept thinking about folks suffering from mudslides and downed trees. I thought of the poor, soggy bride who six months ago had planned her wedding around the assumption of blue skies. Same with birthday parties, leaving a house jammed with restless toddlers. I felt badly for anyone who was required to be outside or who had a flat tire or who skidded into an accident because of all the weather I have been so pleased with.
On their behalf, I will be equally delighted with the predicted week of sunshine. I could have enjoyed more storms and even would have liked some serious thunder and lightning. But I will come clean that I am just a bit weary of wet, muddy dog prints running through my house along with the wet, muddy dogs that create them. I was fed up with wearing my raincoat hood, which squashes my hair, and of wrestling with a truculent umbrella. I can do without the dashing from door to car to door as moisture runs down my back and into my shoes. I will be happier finding less mold and mildew in unexpected places and it will be nice to have my towels dry on the rack. And my conscience will rest much easier at the lack of cars pulled off the road in a downpour.
So bring on the clear skies. Things do need to dry out. I want to be able to go outside to get the mail in my slippers. I want to do a little repair in that leaf-covered garden and take steps toward discouraging the explosion of snails, which also loved the wet weather.
More rain is no doubt on the way, but for now I will notice the clear, clean view of the mountains covered with snow and the absence of a lake in my backyard. Don’t expect too much glee, though. My standards are high. Until it hits 90 degrees, I see the sun as a serious underachiever.