Notes on the Weather
©Rachel C Johnson
Today was the first day in weeks I’ve seen sun. Today was the first time the clouds parted, and for the most part I was disappointed. I wanted it to keep raining; I want it to be raining now, but all I see are weary clouds and tiny stars peaking out. I could swear that it has been raining for weeks, non-stop, wake-you-in-the-night rain. I was sure by now the streets would be flooded, that all of life might be drowned in the heavy droplets—I was wrong. The streets are wet, a thin layer of oil and rain water keeps them slick, but nothing is drowning in the over-dose of hydration. It seems almost that the rain isn’t living up to the expectations; it’s quietly letting us down. Our flowers and grass, our streets and homes have not been sacrificed for the sake of the rain, and I am left down, down under the weight of the downpour.
It turned cold today, without me expecting it. I came out of the library and I was chilled instantly. The humidity was still in the air, but it was lighter, thinner, not as harsh as earlier in the day. I couldn’t see out the window from where I sat in the library, so I don’t know if it rained, if it poured, if a cold front pushed its way through behind a dangerous storm. All I knew was the cold as I stepped out into it, and as I walked to my car. All I knew was the chill, the wind, and the scent of past rain and drying concrete. The feeling of sudden cold after days of summer might have stunned me, but I smiled on the way to my car. I smiled and smelt the air, breathed deep the chill, breathed in enough to warm my spirit if only for a moment.
May 12, 2007
May 15, 2007
©Rachel C Johnson
Today was the first day in weeks I’ve seen sun. Today was the first time the clouds parted, and for the most part I was disappointed. I wanted it to keep raining; I want it to be raining now, but all I see are weary clouds and tiny stars peaking out. I could swear that it has been raining for weeks, non-stop, wake-you-in-the-night rain. I was sure by now the streets would be flooded, that all of life might be drowned in the heavy droplets—I was wrong. The streets are wet, a thin layer of oil and rain water keeps them slick, but nothing is drowning in the over-dose of hydration. It seems almost that the rain isn’t living up to the expectations; it’s quietly letting us down. Our flowers and grass, our streets and homes have not been sacrificed for the sake of the rain, and I am left down, down under the weight of the downpour.
It turned cold today, without me expecting it. I came out of the library and I was chilled instantly. The humidity was still in the air, but it was lighter, thinner, not as harsh as earlier in the day. I couldn’t see out the window from where I sat in the library, so I don’t know if it rained, if it poured, if a cold front pushed its way through behind a dangerous storm. All I knew was the cold as I stepped out into it, and as I walked to my car. All I knew was the chill, the wind, and the scent of past rain and drying concrete. The feeling of sudden cold after days of summer might have stunned me, but I smiled on the way to my car. I smiled and smelt the air, breathed deep the chill, breathed in enough to warm my spirit if only for a moment.
May 12, 2007
May 15, 2007
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