It’s been raining this week here in Southern California. A rare and mysterious sight. I absolutely love the rain. Being a native Floridian, thunderstorms are my specialty. The Sunshine State is not nearly as sunny as people think. Well, it is, but it is also known for insanely intense downpours and lightning-cracking thunderstorms that can last the entire afternoon or just a surprise 20-minutes and then back to the sun. Sometimes people from out-of-state come to visit or have moved to Florida for school and experience a sun shower and have no idea it was even a thing. It’s a legitimate shock for them. Yes: the sun often shines during the rain in Florida! I also lived in Portland, OR for a year. I loved it there and it’s one of the heaviest precipitation cities. But it’s quite different than Florida. It’s more of a constant shower all day, every day, with only gray skies. No thunder. On the rare occasion that it does rain in California, it’s much more like Portland rain. Constant and steady. I love the rain. And since it’s so rare in California, I always expect Californians to be excited on those special rainy days. But they never, ever are. I’ve heard more frustrated grunts from Californians during the rain than I ever could have imagined. And they think I’m the odd bird for smiling through it. And I don’t care which kind of rain I get–Florida or Oregon-style. I like both for their own natural uniqueness and the entirely different moods they can inspire. So much intensity in one–excitement and power and rich sounds. And the other calming, humming in the background, and yes, sometimes melancholy, but in an oddly romantic kind of way. How strange to find romance in sadness. And yet, not so strange. I should like to kiss the rain. Or sleep to its sporadic metronome. Sleeping is lovely, so that would be fine, too.
