perspectives on rain

And now for a sharing moment from Ken…

I used to feel quite melancholy on rainy days. I'd have to begrudgingly wake up to dim gray skies, gripe in traffic about how people can't drive when it's raining, and considered my day a loss. But one day not long ago, the skies dumped down rain on me while I was dayhiking on North Seymour Island in the Galapagos. Being in a protected national park, there were no buildings to shelter me from the rain, and the boat was at least 30 minutes to an hour from coming to pick us up. But this time, uncharacteristic of me, I laughed and let the rain fall on me. While most everyone else was standing on water's edge complaining to the tour guide about the boat not being here faster, I got into the water with Alicia to check out some of the marine iguanas and Sally Lawrence crabs that were climbing the rocks and tried taking some pictures with her new waterproof camera.

Moments before the storm:


Alicia on the beach:


Me on the dinghy after it picked us up (click on the photo for an interesting dialogue in the comments):


Upon getting back to the schooner and having an Ecuadorian Pilsener beer, I felt glad that I didn't let the rain bring down my first day in the Galapagos. But surely, I was only happy because I was on vacation, right?

So that was this past March. A month later in April, I went downtown to the National Mall for the Earth Day celebration, camera in hand, ready to check out the exhibits and photowalk around the concert. Again, clouds rolled in and the downpour began. No umbrella on hand, no poncho in my backpack, and this time, I'm carrying my camera and lenses, which are not waterproof. My Crumpler camera bag is waterproof, but I figured when they say waterproof, they generally mean misty rain, not sheets of rain.

I stowed my camera and looked up to see a scene of chaos that no camera could capture. Some people sprinting full speed toward the museums, some opening their arms to the sky, some starting a game of football, and some just doubled-over laughing with their friends. And then there was me, by myself, fully soaked and getting even more so by the second, walking slowly and listening to the combined crunching and squishing noise the gravel was making at my feet, looking around, and laughing to myself, in that relieved, freeing laughter sort of way, knowing that rainy days don't have to be bum days for me anymore. I was so glad to be out, even glad to be in the rain to witness the spectacle. The rain tapered off a little bit and I got my camera back out (carefully, with a plastic bag around it) to see if I could at least try to capture the notion that rain can even make the day more fun and in a sense, even can bring down inhibitions.

For example, these people probably wouldn't have jumped into this fountain at the National Gallery of Art if it were just a regular sunny day:


Note the unused umbrellas in the lower left:


I recall these guys commenting that it's probably drier in the fountain than it is in the torrent of rain:


Not shown are the people who offered me a beer from their cooler at the top of the steps at the National Gallery of Art, West Building. And the security guard who was kind enough to look the other way while I was drinking it.

I haven't had a gloomy rainy day since. Now, when I see rain coming, I think of the two particular experiences above (and it's nice having some pictures of them) and wonder what will be my next rainy day story. My more recent memories of rainy days include laughing with coworkers about how the rental car company wasn't going to appreciate us bringing our car back after driving it through a hailstorm, looking at the flood of neat rainbow pictures in the DC flickr pool after one recent rainstorm, and today, writing this entry, recognizing that the rain itself has helped me find an element of peace in my life that I didn't have before.