Thursday, May 28, 2009

Random Ramblings in a Thunderstorm

Is there any sound more glorious than the rhythmic rain?  I love rain whenever it comes, but especially when I'm asleep.  There's just something about the "I'm all safe and snug with my pillows, and outside it's nasty" combined with the lovely pitter-splashes (the best "white" noise I know) that makes me smile.  I got rain during my nap today.  A nap in and of itself is a glorious miracle, but when it comes with a thunderstorm, you know God loves you.

I am a napper.  My email signature contains my current favorite quote.  Don't know where I got it, maybe a greeting card, but the quote is:

Consciousness: that annoying time between naps.

I've napped as long as I can remember.  I remember fighting with my mother about it while in high school.  She would want me to be sociable to whatever "project" type person I found in my home that day.  (We used to call them Mom's Strays because it didn't matter whether you were homeless and toothless or jobless or teen-pregnant or a refugee, my mother would befriend you, tell you about Jesus, feed you, and do what she could to help you on  your way.  It was her spiritual gift of mercy in the works, but I was 15, didn't know what a spiritual gift was, though I knew Jesus, I just wanted to NAP.)  Sometimes I was the good daughter, but mostly, I was the sullen, sleepy, teenager with no thought except unconsciousness awaiting.

As a teacher, I always struggled with whatever class was after lunch.  I was just sooooo sleepy, yet I had to be alert (they were 7th graders you know) and nowhere near cranky.  We got through it.  As a mom, I was in perfect company.  My kids would nap, and so would I.  But all that changed when Diamond started pre-school and quit napping.  I had many napless years in there.  But now?  My kids are old enough to entertain themselves quite well and quite safely so I again can have my favorite treat.  And when you're getting up at 4:30, by the afternoon a little pick-me-up is in order, or you'll never be alert enough to put your children to bed.  (Though I will admit to dumping them in bed quickly, and heading straight for mine from time to time.  Does cut down on the grown-up only time with The Engineer.)  So if you're trying to get a hold of me in the afternoon, you'll find a sign on the door which says, "They can't play until 2:30".  My phones will be unplugged and silenced, and I'll be dreaming.  

I started this about rain, though.  You got the nap part for free.
Rain has never ruined any of my plans.  Postponed, changed, cancelled, but not ruined.  It's a matter of attitude, I think.  As a little girl growing up in Sweden, we went to an afternoon class in the woods called, "Mulle School".  Mulle was a woodland character dressed in green with green leaves in her hair, yet looked suspiciously like my 1st grade teacher.  We'd hike in with our mommies and meet her in some secret place that changed every week.  Very exciting!  She would teach us about flora and fauna and Sweden, but most importantly, she taught us the Mulle School Mantra.  "There's no such thing as bad weather, there's just the wrong clothes."  If you know anything about Sweden, you know it's more Seattle than Denver.  Let's put it this way, in the summer they painstakingly COUNT the sun days.  "Summer '79 was a good summer.  We had 12 sun days!"  I'd go to Sweden for my summer visit, spend three weeks, get maybe 3 sun days.  I still remember the best miracle of all was the year we had gotten to spend the day with my relative who lived on an island and had an adorable teen-age son who was just older enough than me to be completely enticing (very, very distant relative, don't get squeamish on me) and who took me and my sister for boat rides all day.  From the "big" island to the smaller islands to the "beach".  In the motor boat, in the canoe.  All in blazing, non-Swedish warm sun.  It was a day to remember.  His name, apparently not worth remembering.  (But I bet my sissie who remembers such stuff oh so much better than I do will retrieve it from her memory banks and tell me).
I love rain when camping.  Mind you, after 25 years of tent camping, I've earned my camper.  I've camped with a port-crib, with a potty-chair, with a high chair, with no sleep and crying kids.  It's a welcome change to just be able to duck inside and listen while the storm splashes away on the aluminum roof.
I love rain while sitting on my covered front porch, just watching it.
I love rain while driving, and wish I could do it without the interrupting noise of the wipers.  (Although the rain we drove home in on Saturday night was a bit over the top.  More like driving straight through a river than in rain)
I love rain in the summer when I walk barefoot in it with my umbrella.
I love rain for the way it makes the air smell and feel.
I don't know if I'd still love rain if I lived in a rainy place, but in often drought stricken and high desert Colorado, we don't get enough of it for me to ever get tired.

And I always have the right clothes.

1 comment:

JoAnn said...

I love rain too. I don't get enough of it here - growing up in the PNW taught me that Mulle was right, there is no bad weather, just the wrong clothes. When my cousins from San Diego visited, they would sit around waiting for the rain to stop so they could go play football. My dad finally lost patience and told them to man up and remember that they wouldn't melt.