Las Gotas de Lluvia (Drops of Rain)

Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius / I don't feel any pain / A little fall of rain / Can hardly hurt me now / You're here, that's all I need to know / And you will keep me safe / And you will keep me close / And rain / will make the flowers grow. ~Les Miserables, Little Fall of Rain

It's raining.

Again.

While I can't say that I don't love the soft kiss of rain on my face or on the pattering of moisture on my windowpane...

...I'm starting to be a bit fed up with all this rain.

The weather has been nothing but unusual in this part of the world...raining one moment, beautiful blue sky the next.

I think it's feeling as off-kilter and strange as I myself have felt recently.

One minute, my skies are grey...broken...tears flowing as steady as Midwestern rain.

The next, the clouds break and my soul is flooded with a strange sort of joy, as though the windshield wipers of my heart have been turned on, and my vision clears again.

It's odd, to be sure.

Maybe I should go to Narnia, as I've always planned...

...and ask Aslan to turn me into a nyad or a dryad, one of the tree or water nymphs.

It might be a nice change...

...to weave my hair with rose petals and ivy vines...

...or to wear water droplets like nature's diamonds about my neck...

...to clad myself in a gown of clouds...

...to wander barefoot through the softest grass that merges with my soul.

Perhaps I shouldn't complain about the weather so much.

Maybe I need to just embrace it.

Love it.

Wear it.

Take it into my soul and breathe it into my lungs.

I think I shall leap into puddles,

and make a necklace out of raindrops.

The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you'd just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency. ~Susan Allen Toth