I love rain. I love how dark and dreary and romantic everything gets. Some people feel melancholy when it rains… I have moments of regret when the sun comes out after a good soaking. Rain is comforting. It is an excuse to stay in and eat warm food and read books and do not much of anything.
It is granted that I don’t live in a climate where we get rain 300 days a year or anything, but I really do love rain. I think even if we did get 300 days of rain a year, I would still love it.
And there is nothing better than a thunderstorm. A storm where the sky is far darker than it should be for the time of day and every once in a while a flash will paint everything bluish and as bright as noon for half a second. The kind of storm that is right overhead, where the lightning and thunder are almost simultaneous and the rain is falling so hard that the drains overflow and if you are caught out in it you get soaked to the skin in half a minute. That’s the kind of rain that, if you aren’t home, you dash through it anyway, just so you can get home quick and change into warm jammies and curl up with a scotch and a blanket and a good book in front of the window before it’s over.