I think I’ve gone through a dozen starts and stops with today’s post and it took me a while to realize why: It’s raining.
Those of you who live in other areas where you’re probably tired of precipitation by now are probably thinking that wet, cold weather definitely is uninspiring when it goes on for days and days. February is probably the worst for those Winter Blues. Everything is gray and dreary, shoveling snow is becoming a chore and you can’t wait for the weather to turn nice again.
Out here in the desert where I’ve been living for the past 10 years, life is a little different. Rain or snow is rarely seen, and when it is, it’s cause for celebration. Twitter lights up with nearly every desert dweller asking, “Is it raining in your part of town? It is here! Oh look, it’s snowing too!”
Keep in mind, our version of excitable snow is nothing like yours. A single, microscopic flake is enough to make any of us Las Vegans go running for the boots and mittens.
The Waste Not, Want Not Phenomenon of Desert Rain
When I first moved out here I encountered a strange side effect of having grown up on the north eastern coast for most of my life. Back East, beautiful sunny days were something you made sure you went out and enjoyed before more bad weather set in.
Once I moved out here, where every day is one of those “nice days”, I felt guilty if I didn’t go outside and use it. Eventually, feeling like I had to do so became a chore. What? Another nice day? You have to be kidding me! Where were the dark rainy days that allowed me an easy excuse to stay in with a warm cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich and be nothing but a slug all day?
Turns out, many of the transplants I spoke to had the same thing happen to them when they moved here. Nice days are a dime a dozen. The tables had shifted and now the dreary days were like gold.
When I worked for the sign company, the whole shop would stop what they were doing to go watch the rain. And when it snows? Oh man, that’s the headline news on television.
Silence of the Rain
Last week, Friar and Davina both put up extraordinary posts about silence. I know exactly the type of silence they were talking about, too. Snowfall silence. Silence so thick you can hear the wheels in your brain turning. Silence that blankets everything and offers you incredible clarity.
Out here, Rain Silence is a little different. It’s the sound of a quiet house and the patter of drops on the aluminum carport roof outside. It’s the wind tapping on the windows every so often. It’s a sense of warmth and security knowing you actually have warmth and security. Rain Silence is cleansing. It’s a way to slow down and recharge. It’s also knowing that it won’t last long enough for you to get tired of it, either.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy the rain. Rumor has it we may get a little snow in the valley too. Sounds like a bonus to me.
