I’m usually quite agreeable, but I have to take issue with a song that the American pop duo Karen and Richard Carpenter released in 1971 entitled “Rainy Days and Mondays”. I don’t object to either, but it’s the refrain “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down” that I find questionable. Mondays? Well, maybe when I worked, they could make me feel anxious, but down? No. And rainy days? Never!
Growing up in western Massachusetts, I was no stranger to rainy days. We had four distinct seasons. During the spring and summer, showers and thunderstorms were common, although it did rain some in the fall, too. As a kid, rain simply meant wearing a raincoat over my clothes, rubbers over my shoes, and holding an umbrella over my head. On school days, we had recess in our classrooms and could play board games or just chitchat with our friends. On weekend days, we’d cozy up in front of the TV, do arts & crafts on the kitchen table, or read a library book snuggled on the couch. What could be more fun than that?
After college I moved to southern California, where I learned that the seasons there were more mild and less distinct. In time, I got used to far less rain and much more sun. So, when the heavens finally did open up and rain fell from the skies, I was delighted. All I had to do was dig out an umbrella from a hallway closet to use when getting into and out of my car. Or put on a rain jacket when going for a walk. And if staying inside, a rainy day provided the same comforts I enjoyed as a child.
Once married, we left California for a while and moved around some. In Oregon we got properly schooled in precipitation. Because it rained so often, we learned that anything you do in the sunshine, you do in the rain. Go for a walk, a hike, even a picnic. There was no such thing as a “rain date”. We just had to wear the appropriate gear and do outdoor activities under a roof when necessary. Living in a rural area with fir and pine trees in our backyard and a vineyard in the front, I thoroughly enjoyed being enveloped in that world of green.
Although it’s dry most of the year, soon after we moved to Arizona we learned of it had a monsoon season. Typically, it arrived in June and leaves in September. That’s when higher humidity causes thunderstorms, lightning, even hail. I don’t recall being out in the rain much there, but I do remember watching some spectacular nature shows from the comfort of our porch. Absolutely beautiful!
Now the wettest place we’ve ever lived had to be the years spent in southwest London. It’s there our vocabulary expanded to include new terms for rain. Mizzle, smirr, and smizzle. And we learned new ways to describe it depending on its intensity. It can be spitting, drizzling, bucketing down, tipping down, pouring, showering, plothering, or raining cats and dogs. With its frequent appearances, we had macs and wellies at the ready and never left home without a brolly. And although the humidity puffed my hair into the stratosphere, it kept my complexion rosy and dewy!
From my journal: April 23, 2007, E. Twickenham, England
“First rainy day since I moved here…pleasant! Everything is so green…so fresh.”
Living back in California now, I brighten when I see rain in the forecast. I like how calm rain makes me feel. I like how it plays on all of my senses. The cool touch of droplets on my skin, the meditative sound of raindrops falling down, the fresh taste of it on my tongue, the wet smell of earth emanating from the ground, and the vibrant sight of watercolor images blending all around. Whether being outside in it, or inside out of it, I’ve always had a fondness for rain, and I know I always will. No, rainy days don’t get me down. They refresh me. They relax me. Rainy days lift my spirits up. So, I say…let it rain!
A Journal Journey 