Singing in the rain...

I’ve been in Massachusetts for six months now, and most of the precipitation has been of the frozen variety. Which, of course, has been completely foreign to me: strong wind battering against the townhouse without the accompanying pitter-patter on windows; the sand and grit embedded in every wet patch; the splat of snow flying off the car in front of me or dropping unexpectedly from overhead lines.

I expected to find the winter strange and different, and I wasn’t disappointed. However, it wasn’t until Spring arrived that I realized I had been unnerved by how silent the weather here has been.

Because I’m used to rainy weather.

Nasty downpours pounding against every hard surface. Thunder claps rattling dishes in the cupboards. Light showers gently tapping on windows. Squalls rushing through trees, spattering drops in random patterns. The swish of tires on wet pavement. The slap of sprayed puddles against the windscreen.

I haven’t heard any of those sounds for months. And I probably never would have realized how much I missed the sound of rain…until it started raining yesterday. I lay awake last night simply enjoying the wind and rain hammering against my bedroom windows. On the way to work this morning, I actually drove through puddles like we splashed through them as a child. Rain was fun again, almost new. Everyone arrived this morning grumbling about the weather -- but I just grinned.

Unfortunately, now that the really wet stuff has arrived, I find I'm holding my breath as I listen for the sound of thunder.