Rain in Summer.
After a hotter than usual summer, it started to get colder during last week. That was unexpected for the end of August, when it is normally hot and humid.
Then almost thirty-six hours ago, it started to rain.
It went from an annoying drizzle to a full-blown downpour, and then it didn’t stop. The rest of that day, all that night, and all day yesterday it kept pouring down. The noise of the rain was increased by a strong wind lashing it against the house, and against me and Ollie when we were out on his dog-walk too.
Any idea that it was still the end of the summer was banished by the dark skies and constant hammering of the rain.
By late last night, I really had reached the end of my tether with it, and my mood was very low. Weather like that makes me feel trapped in the house, almost claustrophobic, and following the freedom of that earlier warm and dry weather, it was even more depressing.
By the time I went to bed, I lay there listening to the rain hitting the window for the second night, and even before I got off to sleep, I was dreading getting up to another day of it today.
I write a lot about rain on this blog, mainly because having to go out for a long time every day with Ollie has focused my attention on extremes of weather like never before in my life. Some people like rain. Others say things like ‘it’s good for the garden’. People who live in hot dry countries welcome rain with excitement, even festivals.
But I actually hate rain now. I never want to see it, hear it, or feel wet from it one more day in my life. If it never rained again here I wouldn’t mind. I would be very happy in fact. The past eight years of my life have been dominated by rain. Flooding in outbuildings, problems with guttering, and the constant daily soakings every time I went out with Ollie. Dealing with mud, trying to get a saturated dog dry enough to go back into the house, and stripping off clothes that got wet despite investment in expensive ‘waterproof’ outer clothing.
If you only ever experience rain by looking at it through the windows of your house and car, try to imagine being out walking around in it every day, seven days a week.
But it has finally stopped.
At least for now.