RAIN
By Valerie Curtiss
Living on the Southern coast of Oregon where "lovely weather
for ducks" is the norm, I never thought I would pray for rain,
but after a long, hot, perfect summer, the forests got dryer
and dustier, and the garden had to be watered more often. It
was time once again for rain. Finally, in late September, the
day came, and the air was filled with a special scent, and the
liquid plunk, plunkety plunk sound of raindrops on the roof
brought with them a distinctly pleasant feeling of joy.
I read often about the celebration of the seasons in more
Northern climes, and savor in memory the pristine beauty of
brilliant sunshine glistening on newly fallen snow, the icy
crispness of the air, and the icicles turning cabins into ice
palaces. But, I do not envy those who choose to live there. I
enjoy this milder clime, with its mist cloaked landscapes, the
evergreen backdrop of trees and distant hills moving silently
back and forth through the early morning fogs rising out of
the sloughs below.
There are many faces of rain, from the sweet, barely damp mist
that lends a dewy moistness to the skin, to the seventy
mile-per-hour wind driven hail that will flatten anything left
standing in the garden. Rain renews, washes away the dust, and
freshens up the spirit. It is the essence of life. Not one
seed can sprout without the tender life-giving raindrops.
Pacific squalls bring their own form of excitement to the
doldrums of winter, with earth moving rain one minute,
dazzling sunshine the next. Night storms are even more
frivolous, first a roof pounding, shingle lifting hail, then
enter stage-left, a heavy mind-dazzling moon, dashing rapidly
through immense grey clouds etched in silver. Lofty sails
blown across the continent, crystal starlight winking
brilliantly in their wake, shards of moonbeams turning bare
alders into phantom ballerinas tip-toeing across the shining
wet grass.
More predictably, there is the monotonous, steady, settled in
for weeks type of rain. All you can do is to turn up the
lamps, light a fire to ward off the dampness, drag out the
coziest goose-down comforters, and tuck your feet into lamb's
wool slippers. It's time to put on a kettle, make a good pot
of tea, settle in and devour the stack of gardening magazines
that have been begging to be read for the last six months.
As I write, I tend to glance often out the sliding glass doors
that lead to the deck. They offer a panoramic view of the
foothills as they descend steadily into town, the bay, and on
out into the Pacific Ocean. From this viewpoint, the seasons
come and go and each hour of the day brings a new and ever
changing canvas, a shifting kaleidoscope of sunlight which
steadily lights less and less of the deck, and our Boston
terriers fight more often over their diminishing patches of
sunlight. It is a signal that winter is drawing close.
Yes, rain does keep us indoors. Indeed, one can find many fun
things to do in the icy winters of the North; skiing,
sledding, ice skating, chopping firewood, coaxing reluctant
cars to start while your nose and fingers freeze, getting
stuck in snow drifts, wrestling with frozen pipes on Christmas
Day in weather more suited to the North Pole. Here, when it
rains, out come the books, the quilts and the hot chocolate.
It's time stoke the furnace of the mind, to reminisce, gather
in the clan, renew old friendships, celebrate new ones. Time
to prepare for the holy days that mark the passage of time.
Another year has come and gone, but all is not lost, there's
another one right around the corner, and as the rain washes
away the old, and wipes the slate clean, it's time to look
ahead to another exciting year to come.
GROWING RAIN!
The garden lies dormant, sodden, dismal.
A mist rises gently from the dank green forest that lies
beyond.
Mud grows beneath my feet.
Ponds fill, roofs drip, branches whip and dance in winter's
fury.
But look, a fuschia still bears blossoms purple pink, that
brave the winter chill, to let us know the garden is not gone,
but gently sleeping, beneath it's counterpane of winter rain.
Valerie Curtiss
Coos Bay Oregon
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