Rainy Day Rambling

You know how you sometimes forget something about yourself for a while and then remember? Well, I'm remembering that I used to love rain when I was a child. I lived out in the country, and the rain made everything smell fresh and sweet. Even when it was a little cold, it felt like I was being held and washed.

Then, I moved to Boston, where the rain smelled like a wet dog that had rolled in poo. The rain caused this disgusting steam to rise out of the manhole covers. Papers that people had dropped on the sidewalk got plastered to the ground and began leaching color.

Then, in Denver, I had mixed feelings. I expected the sun all the time because it was present so often, and rain disappointed me. At the same time, Denver needs all the rain it can get, and I could see the rain coming from quite a distance. I had never seen that before going out there. The first few times Jordan and I saw it, we didn't know what it was. It looked like the sky was falling in dark streams or like the cloud just couldn't hold itself aloft any longer and let itself slip to the earth in gray-black ribbons. Once we figured out that it was rain, it made total sense - like an impromptu Earth Science demonstration.

Now, here, in Sewanee, I have all the smells and feelings of my childhood experience of rain. I went outside this morning to feed the dogs, and the smell of home almost made me cry. My mom always let me play in the rain because (everyone say it together) you don't get a cold from being cold. I bet my being able to play in the rain contributed to my fondness for it. My kids love it when it rains because it means umbrellas and rain boots and splashing in puddles. Those are good childhood memories, I think.