It’s raining outside. I’m looking away from the window and I can tell the day is overcast by the light in the room, but I know it’s raining by the sound of tires on the pavement. And this isn’t data journalism, but I think drivers honk more frequently in the rain. And so what? Well, that’s my question.
Rain is gloomy, no getting around it. I just peeked and people are all under umbrellas. This isn’t data journalism either, but they don’t look happy.
I like gardening, so I do appreciate free water falling out of the sky onto my plants. Having watched plants’ response of manic growth or strangled shriveling, depending on how much rain they get, I value it a lot. The best rain is rain that comes after you’ve moved or planted a hundred things. You’re finished, and tired and the rain comes and completes the project better than any hose ever could.
But mostly rain is gloomy. On the other hand, it used to be poetic too. Rain, I mean. But gloom also. When did poetry go away? I know, I know, poems are still around, but what happened to interest in recognizing, feeling and exploring emotional reactions to the evocative aspects of life? What happened to the DESIRE for poetry? Now rain is just something that is in the way. An inconvenience, not a medium for reverie punctuated by a distant car horn.
I find myself in a mood for reverie when at work and I’d rather be somewhere else. It’s a start, maybe.