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I like rain.
I don't think I'd like it every single day. Anything "every single day" gets old after a while. If I lived in San Francisco, I'd miss the snow.
But I like listening to rain and watching the puddles get dimpled with raindrops. I like being dry under an eave but feeling the damp air. I even like it when I'm out, perhaps camping, and there's just no help for it - I've got to be out in the rain. I get soaking wet and then it doesn't matter anymore (as long as I'm sufficiently warm, whether through air temperature, wool, or a dry torso - cold and wet is not something I like, ever).
Everything looks a little grey, a little subdued. But I don't think of it as sad or depressed - more introspective, really. Somber and contemplative. Somber and sad aren't the same. It's a deep breath and a quite pause in the usual happily hectic rhythm of my days. A day for meditation and reflection.
(In an ideal world, anyway. In a world where I have to go to work regardless of the weather, it's a day for the road monkeys throwing around more crap than usual and a commute that magically gains 50% more time. But one of the blessings of my life is an office with a window, through which I can still see puddles and red-leaved trees against a grey sky.)
I don't think I'd like it every single day. Anything "every single day" gets old after a while. If I lived in San Francisco, I'd miss the snow.
But I like listening to rain and watching the puddles get dimpled with raindrops. I like being dry under an eave but feeling the damp air. I even like it when I'm out, perhaps camping, and there's just no help for it - I've got to be out in the rain. I get soaking wet and then it doesn't matter anymore (as long as I'm sufficiently warm, whether through air temperature, wool, or a dry torso - cold and wet is not something I like, ever).
Everything looks a little grey, a little subdued. But I don't think of it as sad or depressed - more introspective, really. Somber and contemplative. Somber and sad aren't the same. It's a deep breath and a quite pause in the usual happily hectic rhythm of my days. A day for meditation and reflection.
(In an ideal world, anyway. In a world where I have to go to work regardless of the weather, it's a day for the road monkeys throwing around more crap than usual and a commute that magically gains 50% more time. But one of the blessings of my life is an office with a window, through which I can still see puddles and red-leaved trees against a grey sky.)
