Even in Winter, I love rainy days.
It’s been a very rainy week here on the Long Island Sound and I have loved it. I love the way that there is nothing about Winter that enhances the experience of rain.
It’s cold. The trees are bare, the shrubs are scrawny, the grass is dead, landscape is practically colorless with the bleak monotony of Winter. C. S. Lewis said that we never truly see light, we only see the slower things lit by it. The speed of light feels very slow on a rainy day. I love it. This is the purest rain day of the year. It’s days like these that teach you who you really are.
Being a person who loves rainy days, I like it that the weather dampens every one’s expectations of the day and of me.
I like it that nobody is waiting for me to accomplish anything in the rain-filled outside world.
I like it that the rain gives me permission to putter around in my own little universe.
I like my own company.
I like my memories.
I especially like my memories of other rainy days in far away places.
Little did I know, when I went to live there for a year…
…that it rains all the time in Paris in the Winter.
There is no better place than the day after day of cold grey Winter rain in Paris to teach you how to really love a rainy day.
There’s more rain in today’s forecast for the Long Island Sound. And the upcoming weekend looks like a washout too. Yippee.
Maybe this will be the weekend when I look hard and long and learn how to paint rain. (You might have noticed that each illustration above has a different kind of painted rain in it.)
Have a great rainy painty weekend, everyone.