2002.06.18

Distant peals

Comments

We had a thunderstorm last night. I only mention this because it happens so rarely out here in the northwest, and a good thunderstorm is the type of event that I miss from my childhood. I can probably count on one hand the number of real thunderstorms we’ve gotten here in Seattle since I moved here (five years ago). That’s pretty much one a year, which is not nearly enough, and usually makes a storm something of a special occasion for me — you know, a sitting-on-the-porch-with-beverage-of-choice kind of thing. Usually I try to take pictures of lightning but it was a little too dark this time to get anything interesting.

I love rain. Mind you, I don’t particularly enjoy driving in it (this may have more to do with how other people drive when it’s raining), nor do I enjoy getting my clothing wet — yuck! Water? Never much cared for it at all.

What I do appreciate is the aural aspect; how it sounds when it hits a roof, a deck, an umbrella. I like good, heavy rain, where drops strike wood with a definite sense of authority. We don’t get enough of around here, however odd-sounding that is for a Seattleite to say. What usually passes for precipitation around here is at best white noise. Weak, on-and-off drizzles; one might as well turn on the faucet and just leave it running. Boring. The sound of a solid rainfall, on the other hand, is a beautiful, fascinating thing; at once soothing and exciting, something to which I can just as easily fall asleep or stay up listening.

I think I’d buy a recording of nothing but falling rain (or better yet, a storm) if (a) something like that existed (not too surprised if one does), and (b) if I could survive the embarrassing experience of presenting such a thing to the cashier.


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