Rain, Rain, Go Away
If, during the middle of the week, a couple of damp, dark days appear, with or without driving rain, it throws you off kilter, but you continue your routine. But when the rain appears on a Sunday or holiday, it's a good idea to hide the knives.
This is a three-day weekend in Spain and most of Europe. And in central and southern Spain a gorgeous preview of summer. The beaches at Benidorm are wall to wall sunbathers looking for the tan that will see them into summer. In Sevilla the temperatures are reaching a hundred degrees Fahrenheit and people are cooling with ice creams, slushes, and cold beers on shady terraces. On the plains I bet the red poppies are dancing amidst the green grasses under a warm spring sun and a cornflower blue sky. Here, a grey wall of fog is enveloping us in its damp everlastingness.
In the morning it's one thing. There are things to do, lunch to get ready. You get your mind taken off the dim light coming in through the windows. But, in the afternoon, after everything has been put away, that's when you enter eternity. An eternity of finding things to do that will cheer you, things that you may have put off for a free afternoon. But whatever energies you have seem to be sucked away by that dark, grey, damp light that permeates the house. Toward the end of the afternoon you're almost feeling suicidal, waiting for night to fall and another unproductive day to end, hoping that the morrow will bring a small glimpse of blue sky that will lift your spirits out of the quagmire of today's rain.
There are books that I won't touch on a day like that. They are so dark It would be like sitting in a black underground room with only decay surrounding me. The books with a comic twist are best reserved for the clouds. They take me out of the rain in my head on such days. In fact, on these days the only thing that ends up getting me through the dark afternoon are books. My daughter will be writing papers or stories of her own, my husband napping, and I will be revisiting books that have cheered me before, hoping to get through the afternoon, hoping that the sun will come out tomorrow, even if only for a couple of minutes.
This is a three-day weekend in Spain and most of Europe. And in central and southern Spain a gorgeous preview of summer. The beaches at Benidorm are wall to wall sunbathers looking for the tan that will see them into summer. In Sevilla the temperatures are reaching a hundred degrees Fahrenheit and people are cooling with ice creams, slushes, and cold beers on shady terraces. On the plains I bet the red poppies are dancing amidst the green grasses under a warm spring sun and a cornflower blue sky. Here, a grey wall of fog is enveloping us in its damp everlastingness.
In the morning it's one thing. There are things to do, lunch to get ready. You get your mind taken off the dim light coming in through the windows. But, in the afternoon, after everything has been put away, that's when you enter eternity. An eternity of finding things to do that will cheer you, things that you may have put off for a free afternoon. But whatever energies you have seem to be sucked away by that dark, grey, damp light that permeates the house. Toward the end of the afternoon you're almost feeling suicidal, waiting for night to fall and another unproductive day to end, hoping that the morrow will bring a small glimpse of blue sky that will lift your spirits out of the quagmire of today's rain.
There are books that I won't touch on a day like that. They are so dark It would be like sitting in a black underground room with only decay surrounding me. The books with a comic twist are best reserved for the clouds. They take me out of the rain in my head on such days. In fact, on these days the only thing that ends up getting me through the dark afternoon are books. My daughter will be writing papers or stories of her own, my husband napping, and I will be revisiting books that have cheered me before, hoping to get through the afternoon, hoping that the sun will come out tomorrow, even if only for a couple of minutes.
Sometimes a rainy day can be wonderful with books and a pot of tea. They do wear thin after many such days. Love your photo
ReplyDeleteBooks, always. Tea depends on the mood. This photo is the view from the back of our house on a day like last Friday. On a sunny day, with the setting sun, it can be magnificent.
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