My children inherited a strange characteristic from both their father and me. We love rain. I inherited it equally from my parents before me, whose first date on Valentines Day was filled with rain and apparently set the stage for a general feeling that rain was not simply something to be endured but something to be entered into. Fred's folks pray for rain regularly as his mother is just about the best English gardener this side of the planet.
Our wedding day was a glorious, sunshiny one in May but for about 30 seconds there was a brief snap of rain and we both thought that was not only a blessing but a whole lot of fun.
We'll both wake each other up in the night so we don't miss a really terrific thunder storm, opening the windows wide so we can not only hear it well, but also get the full effect of lightning and that wonderful spray that comes off the window screens if you're close enough. If its really loud, we love the scare it brings to listen to the echo off the mountain behind our house.Flickering lights practically bring on a celebration. We know the Ave Maria Stella by heart, (which is a prayer to say for protection from great storms), and if one of us intones the first verse even the kids chime immediately in, with that excited pitch in their voice knowing this must be something serious that requires a little help from above.
I am glad it rained so today.Who could resist these puddles?