thoughts about rain.


I love the sound of rain.

I always have, for as long as I can remember. I’ve always loved most things about rain. There isn’t a rainy day goes by when I don’t wish I could run outside barefooted and bathing suit-clad to let the water soak my skin.

When I was little I used to sit at the window in our playroom when the rain came down in sheets, mesmerized by the patterns it played on the asphalt, wishing it would come down harder. It feels so good to be inside when it’s raining outside, particularly if I’m somewhere comfortable.

At camp I would wish for rain so that I and my fellow cabinmates could return to our wooden bunks until it passed, listening to it caress the leaves and dance on the roof above us. Summer rains are the best, that ever-elusive break from the heat, the immediate cool that rushes over the earth as creatures run for cover. The flowers love it, the grass is immediately greener, and once the shower dies down the deer and the rabbits come out in full force to explore the newly dampened creation.

Even cars sound better in the rain as they pass, flinging water aside as they tumble through. And thunder, wondrous thunder, the power it brings, in its many manifestations. Whether rolling and gentle or sudden and fear-striking, miles away or right by our side, we know it is something much bigger than we are, a glimpse into the world beyond our tiny lives.

I’ve never really been afraid of storms, or any kind of weather, most likely due to my love and fascination for them. I’m the one who hears the tornado siren and runs outside, who sits on the porch as the lightning approaches, who wants to go driving in the snow to see how pretty it is. So maybe I haven’t quite grasped how much bigger these acts of God are than I am, how utterly destructive and terrifying they can be. Or maybe that just adds to my naive infatuation with the weather in all its extremes.

I’ll never stop loving the simple rain, the gentle strength that comes with soft drops of water falling to the ground with nothing but good, restorative, beautifying intentions. Everything about it is wonderful, relaxing, and for some strange reason it draws my mind to nature more than the most perfect of sunny days. I can’t help but stop a little when it rains, think a little longer. Even the bugs seem louder, and the birds, as a kind of silence allows for listening ears to hear through the raindrops.

Nature adores the rain, it needs it. I think I do too. I must have been born on a rainy day.



one more reason to stay inside

It has been raining in Massachusetts for days.

Honestly I must say I haven’t minded it. I love a good rainy day.

Particularly when going to work means moving from the bed to the couch, or if I’m feeling adventurous, the chair next to the window.

I always suspected that I would love working from home. Despite my extreme cabin fever the first few weeks I was up here, I actually enjoy being at home all day. Or most of the day. Getting out is nice too.

My only issue is focus. There are a lot of activities I can do when I’m at home and on my own work schedule. Like clean the dishes. Or do laundry. Or take a nap. Or read a book. Or clean the dishes again. Or make coffee. Or talk to my husband, when he comes home from class. Or stare out the window thinking about how much I need to start working.

It’s been a struggle.

Oh, did I tell you I’m working from home right now? Not quite full-time, but I’m doing a fair amount of work at home, and some nannying outside of the home. It’s looking like this will be my situation for the foreseeable future. And I am fine with that.

In fact, I’m quite excited about it. I never really believed something like this could work out for me. And then, all of a sudden, it just did. I’ve still got some things to work out, and I need to find some more work to fill the gaps (got something for me to write?), but if all goes well, this will be my life for a while.

Oh, and another thing about working from home? My second home. Coffee shops.

I can’t tell you how many times I sat in a coffee shop and thought to myself, “if only I had a job that I could do from a coffee shop!” I feel like a real live writer when I work in a coffee shop. I’m pretty sure everyone else around me is jealous.

If anyone has any tips on how to stay focused at home (Who am I kidding. Not just at home. Anywhere.), please enlighten me. I tried making a schedule, which helped…sort of. I thought about setting a timer for my breaks between working, but then I forgot.

We’re still working on this, as you can see.

Hope your days are sunnier than mine.



p.s. my wonderfully observant husband pointed out to me that my most recent post title made it sound like our microwave was alive. Hopefully you read on to realize that was not what I meant. But if not, I hope the title gave you a good laugh.