Rainy day

A nap under a homemade quilt on a rainy Friday afternoon with the window open. Pizza and a movie with just our little family after a busy week without guilt that we should be working in the yard putting dirt in the garden boxes Todd just made us.

The sound of drops hitting the sky light glass while we’re lying in bed, the ultimate white noise, keeping us awake and soothing us to sleep simultaneously.

Noticing the precise moment the rainwater transforms to hail on a late spring afternoon.  Watching my teenaged girls don bathing suits and dance through their laughs even though it’s freezing.  Wrapping up in white fluffy towels afterward, a reward for being so brave.

A night for comfort food, warm old-fashioned fare like mince and smashed potatoes. Always feels like we should have soup and bread.

A Saturday morning for lingering in the cozy sheets together or waking up early to squeeze in a walk before the next storm or spontaneously deciding it’s the perfect time to make waffles and hashbrowns or to find a cozy corner booth at a local diner or quaint downtown eatery where a band will be getting ready for their first set.

Not having to do my hair.  The rain will just make it curly anyway.  Yay for a day off!

Fresh warm socks after the others get soaked from walking through a puddle-filled parking lot.

The glee derived from driving through those huge puddles, the kind that splashes up both sides of the vehicle saturating all the parts with intensity, slowing us down because they’re deeper than we thought.

Watching the wipers trying to keep up.  The satisfaction from that tiny moment of perfectly clear windshield before it speckles again.

Reading on the couch under a blanket.

Umbrellas! A portable shelter allowing us to be out in the weather and to watch it all up close without getting spoiled. We so seldom get to use them in this part of the country, such a treat to pop out a tent of color!

The juxtaposition of darkening clouds and bright green blades of freshly mowed grass.  The rainbow of blacks and grays all across the sky.  The formations of a million different clouds all crowding together.  Watching them wander through the atmosphere like elephants on a trail.

And yes, the other kind of rainbow.  Where you seriously believe you can tell where it ends.  Making you think back to the story about the pot of gold and your childhood.

Feeling lucky that you never did wash your vehicle.

The intoxicating smell as the first drops hit the pavement.  The scent of freshness wafting through open windows.

The first time wearing a brand new rain jacket, the perfect shade of turquoise.  I can’t remember ever owning a rain jacket, although I’m sure I did as a kid.  Just the right heaviness, a tarp of protection, complete with a hood, all day long.

Avery’s rain boots from Scotland with flowers all up and down them.  Oh so Avery.

Watching what animals do, some finding shelter and hunkering down, others seemingly oblivious to the wet and cold.  Feeling bad for our dogs who don’t understand.

The thrill of lightning ripping apart the dark and thunder that temporarily crowds out any other sounds.  The security that comes from being a grown up and knowing neither one can really hurt you.  

Delighting in the leaves and branches bowing and curtseying to each other.  Daring them to bend wildly but not to completely break.  The relief of waking up and having your house and trees still mostly intact.

Being tucked inside together while the storm rages. But wondering about the teenaged boy I saw earlier today who had walked miles on the side of the road with a backpack and earbuds.  Where is he now and where will he go?  The image haunts me and makes me want to hug my own kids tight as we watch the storm from the other side of the glass.