I’m with Eddie Rabbitt on this. I love a rainy night. Or morning.
After suffering through months of no rain, the skies in my part of the Midwest have opened up and grass that hasn’t seen the mower for two months will see it again tomorrow – three times in one week. Almost everything is green again.
This time the rain is bringing cooler temperatures and a sigh of relief.
This morning the clouds were so thick and dark that I overslept! No sun to warn me that “yes, that was the alarm clock. Get out of bed!” The steady drum of the rain on the roof lulls even the best of us back to sleep. Rainy days were meant for us to stay home, to read a book, to nap to the rhythm of raindrops. To await something exciting – announced by the thunder.
Momentous things happen in the rain. Gene Kelly danced his heart out. Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth Bennett. Andy Dufresne was finally free. The battle for Helms Deep raged.
Nothing momentous happens in the rain in my corner of the world. No dancing. No proposals. No freedom or battles.
But when I sit and watch the rain, I can imagine . . .