People complain about the rain. They see it "heading our way", as the weather guy puts it, and they shut down and gripe and lament the terrible weather. Even in March. Well, when I was a kid, I remember cutting out pictures of lions and lambs and pasting them to opposite sides of colored paper to represent Spring. And who could forget that "April showers bring May flowers"? So maybe I owe something to our public schools for my chipper attitude towards the weather. Spring weather was a fact of life, no different than the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria cutouts we pasted on the classroom's cork board before Columbus Day. The lion and lamb would eventually take their place on the cork board and we knew that Spring weather was coming.
I like rain. I think its life affirming. I like the sound of it as it pecks away at the windows, I like the melancholy it makes me feel, and I like the way it splashes in puddles. I even like puddles. My dad always told me a story about his dad, my grandfather, when it rained. "On a day like this", he would say as we stood in his shop, "Dad would sit on a bucket at the end of the barn, and sit and watch the rain." He was safe and dry. I've felt that too. Safe and dry and watching the day go by. We don't always get a chance to do that.
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