As I child I loathed the rain
Having to bike to school, through those windswept polders
Of meadow, cows and ditches.
The Netherlands is like the human body– most of it contains more water than mass
And watching the rain fall in lakes, puddles, canals and rivers
Brings you down, and even more so if you arrive soaked at school
Because you were too cool
To wear that rain suit for your bike.
Or that poncho where, if it rains hard enough, you can collect a little puddle
Inside the triangle of your steer and neck.
Yes, I moved to California for the sun
I won’t lie about my wimpy predilection for sun, warmth and dry weather.
But this year we’ve had the longest stretch of rain
Good for the garden, which now looks like a tropical rain forest
Good for the drought, because yes, flushing toilets is in fact a luxury…
Good for the farmers, and veggies, and fruits…
Good for the risk of summer fires and
Good for spring skiing too…
But bad for the spirit which aches for light, luminous and bright.
Is this then climate change?
Or does the weather do its own thing
Nature being its own master, running by its own inclinations
And indifferent to that little wimpy lady who huddles on the couch
Warmed by the two dachshunds by her side,
For turning on the heat mid-April is insane
In the land that was named after an oven so hot and dry
That it made pioneers die
When crossing the plains of Death Valley.
My summer clothes are still packed away
But once the heat does set in, this rainy melancholy will be but a dim memory…
I never pray for time to speed up or bitch about something as trivial as rain (ahem)
But this year the rainy mood has been in sync with the darkening regimes of dictators and despots at home and abroad.
War seems no longer a science fiction, and, aha, there is the perspective:
Because if it does rain bombs,
People will crawl away in their basements and shelters
And remember the promise and peacetime
of the sweet rains of Spring showers and life renewed.
So let it rain… we are so blessed.