Friday, November 02, 2007

Rain

When I was growing up in Brooklyn, nothing made me happier then hearing it might snow. The possibility of a "snow day", no school, what joy! Snow men, snowball fights, hot chocolate, all things that scream snow day. As an adult the news of an impending snow storm, meant perhaps being late to work, returning home to shovel, whining about trying to find my hat, scarf and mittens. Making sure I put my heels in my briefcase so I wouldn't have to wear my snow boots at work all day. Snow, one of things I no longer think about here on the island.

In Puerto Rico it never snows. It rains. It rains for days. And then it rains some more. The last storm brought with it 8 days of rain. Rain that fluctuates from heavy to light showers but it doesn't stop completely for days. Rain. Children love to hear the word. Torrential rain means no school. It means we may lose power, well ... we'll likely lose power. If we lose power we also have no water, since the well is powered by electricity. No power = no water = no school. My internet connection is via satellite, on rainy days my connection slows to crawl, if I have a connection at all. Lot's of rain means the farm goes unattended. Our soil is like red clay and it becomes slippery and almost treacherous when wet. Rain means the free range chickens look for dry hiding spots, like the shed, the balcony, and under the car. Rain means my cat can't play outside as much as he wants, and that in turn means I have to stop whatever I am doing every few minutes to let him back in or back out. Extended periods of rain mean that due to the warmth and humidity everything feels wet (clothes, furniture, even the walls) and everything starts to smell musty and old. But yet ... I love rainy days. I accept the "cons" as part of life here in the tropics.

I live on a mountain top and one of the sights I am always amazed by is being able to sit on my balcony and see the rain working it's way over to my house. I can see it (and sometimes hear it) in the distance. I sit and watch it slowly work it's way to me. I can watch as torrential rain can become a river flowing down from our mountain along the street. I marvel at the sound of thunder that roars with a fierceness that always makes me shiver a little. Lot's of rain means I'll spot another rainbow. It means it's a good day to read and relax. I sleep best during rain storms, something about that rhythmic soothing sound that lulls me into such a secure state that my insomnia seems a thing of the past.

After the rain, Puerto Rico is even more beautiful. The lushness of my island is spectacular. Every rainy spell is followed by the most glorious beautiful sunny days. It is as if the rain truly has cleansed my little part of the planet. The droplets of water still lingering on the trees as I walk through the farm, the fruits and vegetables glistening in the sun, waiting to be picked. The smell of freshness in the air. The warmth of the sun as it drys all the wetness from my balcony and my cat can finally lounge outdoors for as long as he wants. The rain and I are good friends.

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain" ( I have no clue who said this, but someone did)

7 comments:

Susan said...

It has been a very dry fall here this year. When it finally rained it was like a relief. It did, howevr, cause most of the brightly colored leaves to fall. They're all piling up behind my house on the patio area. I went home yesterday, whining internally about having to sweep them up. Once I got them into a large pile, my dog daisy flew/jumped into them with an amazing gusto. The leaves went everywhere. I couldn't help but laugh, though, because I suddenly remembered the thrill of piling all the leaves up just to dive into them.

One of my favorite song quotes:

"I'm thirsty anyway--so bring on the rain"

fringes said...

Very nice post. I think your quote author is Blaise Pascal. My his name, I'm assuming he was a French philosopher or a philosophical French janitor.

EsLocura said...

wng, magical indeed.

Susan, fall colors I do miss that. But I don't miss raking leaves.

Fringes, oh how impressive those French philosophical janitors are.

Nor, gracias.

heather said...

impressive french philosophical janitors ehh? :-)

beautiful quote, one i think i'll add to my vocabulary.

great post es, it's posts like this that keep me coming back.

EsLocura said...

Heather, thanks, you are too kind : )

jali said...

What a beautiful and eloquent love letter to your home. That was really touching and I'll always remember the final quote.

EsLocura said...

Jali, muchas gracias.

 
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