SUMMER RAIN
Among the most vivid of childhood memories, growing up in the suburbs in New York, is the Summer rain.
One Summer, when I was three or perhaps four years old, it rained day after day, or so it seemed, for many weeks through the Summer. It must have been a particularly stormy July, and it made quite an impression on me.
My sisters were away at Girl Scout camp, so it was just me in the house. When it rained, pouring down sheets of Summer storms, I would stare out the window and watch the effects of the rain. It unfolded like a movie in my perceptions.
A fascinating living landscape, taking place before my eyes: The raindrops on the shrubs, on the grass, on the black-painted iron rail around the patio. The drops on petals of flowers or on the rosebushes that separated our house from the next-door neighbors.
Also fascinating was watching the rain pour out of the gutters and the pipes draining from the roofs of the neighboring houses. As it poured down in torrents, with wind altering the pattern of the fall, it was splendor to behold.
It got to a point where I hoped for a long afternoon rain, just to gaze out the window, to see how the weather would affect the grass, the puddles, the way the dirt met the grass near the pavement, and how that seemed to move ever so slightly after a very long rain.
It was a wonderment before me, nature that trapped me in the house in what woukd otherwise have been outdoor time for me, yet captivated me with the fluidity and motion and intensity before my eyes. I came to adore these storms. They held my attention, with a suspense and magnificense unlike anything else I'd ever seen or experienced.
It wasn't something I discussed, or shared with my sisters or friends. The rainstorm gazing was a private endeavor. Just sort of young little me, communing with, or better put, observing nature.
It has been well over 40 years since that Summer I so vividly recall. Some of the rains of this past July brought those rains of the early 1950s back to mind.
These days, as an adult, I tend to dread some parts of the rain. Like driving in it, or having to walk any distance during a downpour.
And yet there is still something fascinating and alluring about just watching the rain through the window, interacting with whatever is out there, and then it abates and goes away.
There is still a dreamy joy in watching the Summer storms.