Rain and Ramblings

Everytime it rains, it brings back so many memories. I wish I knew why, but I get a deep sense of nostalgia.

I normally sit out side in the verandah and I watch the rain come down.

It's amazing how these little drops of water bring the whole universe to life. The greens of the leaves become greener and the shades of yellow become brighter. It's almost like the rain breathes life into everything that surrounds us.

When I look upto the sky, I wonder where the infinite drops of rain come from. Oh sure, I know the scientific explanation but that's boring. I like to make up my own theory. Maybe there is someone up there, crying? Maybe, just maybe, these crying people are angels? Who knows. A little bit of imagination never goes amiss.

The rain is falling in a steady stream and I love the sound it makes when it splatters the leaves. It's almost like the rain is talking, singing and serenading the world with it's stories. Pools of water form all over the grass and when the wind joins in, the soft chilly breeze that hums around me is so inviting. The world smells so fresh and seems to peaceful.

When it rains, my father likes to sit outside in the verandah and watch the rain, just like I do. I wonder what he thinks of the rain. The dog snoozes on a warm patch of terra cotta and the day passes so, with us watching the rain.

The rain reminds me of my childhood, of my sister whom I miss very much. It reminds me of stories I have read. They say people don't remember things will, but they will always recall how they felt about something. I don't quite remember the stories but I remember how it felt, cuddled in my mother's embrace, making jokes while we watched the rain from the safe harbour of her bed.        

The leaves glisten with the rain water as it washes their faces, dripping off the ends beautifully like little drops of liquid diamond. The dog yawns and I watch the little stones swimming in the pools of water. The gentle pitter patter of the falling water, the smell of fresh soil, the memories, it all overwhelms the senses. It is comforting to retire to bed with a warm mug of coffee but I don't like wasting rain. I love to sit outside on this verandah with my cup of ginger tea and read a good book. Some of the books I enjoyed the most have been read while it was raining. Maybe the continous pound snd thrum of the falling water had something to do with it? Who knows.

When the rain clears up and the world goes back to being it's dry place, I will miss it. I miss the rain, I always do. But maybe it's the ocassional occurrence of the rain that makes it so beautiful in my eyes. Something common would get boring, wouldn't it?

The rain might go away and the world will be dry again, but one will always find the little drops of water clinging to the very tips of leaves, catching the sunllight with proud defiance and throwing their colours to the world; the evidence of a recent rain-fall. I like to think that rain is life. How can it not be when you see the flowers and trees drink up the water so joyfully?

There is not much sunshine during the rain.. but there is always some. And sometimes, even through the rain, the sun shines's brightly, letting the world bask in it's golden, waterly glow. That sight, I think, is the best gift nature can give us.

Rain is beautiful.