Then the rain came....

After a very late summer and more than usual days in the 80's, we in the Northwest let out a huge sigh of relief when the temperature dips and the threat of rain returns once again. You know you truly belong in the PNW if you melt when the temperature is over 75 degrees and long for a "good rain" to clear the air. We do enjoy those great sunny days and milk them for all they're worth, but when the rain returns, we settle back into the rhythm of our lives, wondering about people who actually need to water their lawns and worry about water reserves. The pressure of "enjoying the sun while it's out" fades into the background and we are content.

The rain allows us to get back to our computers, our books, our coffee shops, and give up the search for the perfect place to spend a hot and sunny afternoon, afraid of wasting one of our few precious sunny days. Remind me to read this post in late December or January!
(Photo by C4Chaos, Flickr) 

I repost this quotation about this time every year....  Let us rejoice in the rain!

No rain falls that I do not at once hear in the sound of the falling water an invitation to come to the wedding. It is rare that I do not answer. A walk in an evening rain in any setting is to walk in the midst of God's loving attention to his earth, and, like a baptism, is no simple washing, but a communication of life. When you hurry in out of the rain, I hurry out into it, for it is a sign that all is well, that God loves, that good is to follow. If suffering a doubt, I find myself looking to rain as a good omen. And in rain, I always hear singing, wordless chant rising and falling.

When rain turns to ice and snow I declare a holiday. I could as easily resist as stay at a desk with a parade going by in the street below. I cannot hide the delight that then possesses my heart. Only God could have surprised rain with such a change of dress as ice and snow....
Most people love rain, water. Snow charms all young hearts. Only when you get older and bones begin to feel dampness, when snow becomes a traffic problem and a burden in the driveway, when wet means dirt -- then poetry takes flight and God's love play is not noted.

But I am still a child and have no desire to take on the ways of death. I shall continue to heed water's invitation, the call of the rain. We are in love and lovers are a little mad. -- Matthew Kelty, Flute Solo, Reflections of a Trappist Hermit, pp. 117-19.