Monday, June 15, 2015

Pluviophile: someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days

Remember how I gushed about the storm this morning?

It was nothing, nothing compared to the glories we got this afternoon and evening.

I hate to say it, but the fact that we got a severe lightening and thunderstorm warning made me happy. Don't worry. We did come in when that warning was issued, but still, the knowledge that such a storm was coming brought the giddiness at lightening speed. No pun intended.


When we were telling Jeffrey about Beth being scared of the thunder this afternoon, she chimed right in. I had just finished telling Jeffrey how the thunder had scared her and she jumped up on the couch and said, "Thunder. Scared. Ch-choom!" imitating the noise thunder makes to her.

We all dissolved into laughter.

Later, when we were reading scriptures before bed, we were going in a circle, each reading a verse, but skipping Beth, who was climbing on Jeffrey's back. After skipping her once, she angrily climbed down, and demanded, "My turn!" When we went around again, and it was her turn, she came and sat on my lap, and gravely repeated every single word. I was impressed! Jeffrey and the older kids couldn't stop giggling because on her third word she burped it. It was awfully funny, but the glowering look she was giving everyone (which may have made them giggle all the more) helped me be serious while helping her, full well knowing I could laugh to my heart's content as soon as she was asleep. And I am. I am still laughing at her diminutive glare that could wither a person into submission, or so she thinks. Oh my heart, that girl!

Once the kids were in bed, I wandered outside and just sat on the stoop and watched the storm.


Living the lightening that was blinding, and the rolling thunder bouncing off the mountains and rolling around the valley was a form of cleansing meditation for me.
The cat watched me through her watered down sky colored eyes as I let the cold rain drip on me, sometimes trying to anticipate where the next flash would be, and sometimes just resting my head on the door frame with my eyes closed, listening, feeling, savoring each resounding explosion of light and noise. I loved the quivering tremble of the rain which would sometimes skip around, and sometimes lightly pulse, but always steadily it would come down, quenching the parched earth, and answering the prayers of farmers all around. I am praying it will somehow revive my lavender and rosemary which seem to be dead right now.

Oh glory, this day!


Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. ~Langston Hughes

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