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 RainIt'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
