on friday i rode home through a torrential downpour that included a heavy hailstorm! my back and arms had red marks where the hail had hit hard enough to leave a mark. a guy looking out his window called out to me as i rode past - "least you've got your helmet on" - which was a good point because i would have been in a lot more pain had i not! the hail was just slightly smaller than marbles.
when i got home i found my boy and my girl on the front porch watching it all come down. yes, they're my children! i find proofs like that everyday!!
all that aside, in the ranks of emotive aristocracy, the effect of rain on me would be placed well near the top of the pyramid. i love its smell, its feeling on my skin, its sounds, its appearance in pools and puddles, the effect it has of drawing me to its edge while sitting or standing comfortably inside a shelter. right at the very edge of the falling rain. there's metaphor inside that.
i love the rich sensual straightforward writing of raymond foss. here's his reflection on rain.
a spring rain
the world is wet today
luxurious, damp, drenched
drops hug the leaves,
anoint the still budded lilac blossoms
before their blooming
rich purple and plum
made richer by their watery skin
new leaves under the weight
droplets heavy, hanging
bowing the white pine needles
undersides exposed to drink
drink in the morning
hushed in the rain
temperature near the dewpoint
sprouts of just planted flowers
eager from the parched soil
new puddles bloom too
on the ground, the driveway
collect and gather
without the smell of summer rain yet
tears splash and spread
silent shimmers, heralds, messengers
in the spring rain
1 comment:
on that same hail day i came home to find that one of my forest's lovely trees had been zapped by lightening. i could see metre long jagged caramel-coloured shards stuck into the ground all around what remained of the trunk, and then when i investigated, all sorts of large curls of bark lying here and there. awesome sight.
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