I love rain

June 22, 2004

Rain. I love rain. Dark all afternoon. I stood outside in a light drizzle, the gulls are in from the coast, bright white against the sagging grey rump of the sky, like a horse’s steaming paunch. The atmosphere fresh and alive, a few minutes standing too wet to sit and a quiet peace descends, as I once saw a mist descend across the path through the bogs on Rannoch Moor, rolling down fast and heavy like a diaphanous theatre drape then snaking away across the path before me into the bog-cotton like ghost adders into the moaning bones of sunken footprints long covered over. There is something truly secluded about damp places where sundew invite midges to lunch and butterwort lie about the place like lime-green starfish and returning sodden boots have to be dried in a slow Aga. In just minutes standing in the drizzle I am transported, watching rain droplets dripping from the honeysuckle.