Flowers in the Rain

The day that Earl was supposed to hit the Cape I got up early. I made some coffee and read for a bit and it started raining. It was so quiet. Peaceful. Mom had given me a list of things we should do to prepare for Earl (nailing shut the door to the outdoor shower, drawing off water, locking windows in the attic, pulling out the radio and flashlights etct) and one of the best things she suggested was cutting some flowers for us to enjoy indoors, since once Earl and his "75mph winds" came through, the flowers would be pretty much ruined. Excellent idea.

So when it started raining and I wondered if this was the start of Earl, I headed out to clip some flowers. The rain was gentle and a little warm and I was out there by myself. There was something about it that was so awesome. I didn't mind getting wet. I didn't mind the bits of leaves and pollen that stuck to my damp arms. I liked it even. And even though many of the prettiest flowers on the trees and bushes were scorched looking from the super dry summer, I found a few worth saving.





For some reason that I can't quite describe, those 20 minutes in the rain with the flowers is something I think I will remember for a long time. The peace of it. The simplicity. The total contentment I felt to reach for the highest branches to get a flower, to get mud on me, to let the rain fall and enjoy it. Rain in the city is only fun when you're safe inside. Fighting through the umbrellas in the streets and subways, trying not to have your eyes poked out....not my idea of a good time. Rain in the country....a whole different story. And rain and flowers together will now always remind me of being at peace.