We’re just beginning what we call the monsoon season here in Arizona; a few months of afternoon and evening thunderstorms that light up the sky and give our plants a much needed drink of water. Having grown up on the East Coast, I still find it remarkable how many days of sunshine we experience, which in an interesting way, make the grey, gloomy days — though rare — something to anticipate. I never felt that level of joy back East, for rain meant the lawn was going to grow faster than my poor mower would be able to handle.
Our dog let us know the other day how he felt about this unexpected precipitation; he took two steps from the front door, looked at us, and immediately turned around to wait it out from the comfort of his pillow. I couldn’t blame him; no matter how welcome the rain might be, I’m still not a fan of wandering around in a downpour.
There is a magic to rain, though. Especially in how it can dramatically shift an otherwise familiar environment into something entirely different; colors also seem more saturated, more vibrant, more real. I’ve used a storm or two as a dramatic background in a story — or a reason for main characters to hang out together and linger just a bit longer over a cup of coffee. It can be a magical, wonderful change of pace.