Dear Diary,

Rain

Aug/31/15
Monday

Dear Diary,

Can we talk about rain for a minute?

My god I love rain. I love the sound of it beating unrelentingly against my window just as much as I love the sound of it softly pitter pattering on window panes. A sound that can sooth the restless, aching soul.

I love the smell. Oh god, that wonderful, lovely smell.

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pet·ri·chor ˈpeˌtrīkôr/
noun
a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.
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The scent of the washing away and cleansing of the earth. That's a scent I could smell for the rest of my life.

And I love the hazy colors that filter through the distorted rain drops on my window. The shapes will never ever look the same. The rain slowly trickling down the expanse of the sky down my window. I love how the grass and flowers clash vibrantly against the grey sky with vitality and vigor, like the rain gave them life. And I love how the pavement soaks and darkens with water from above and contrasts against the pulsing greenery.

I love the atmosphere, dark and dreary and seeping with sadness. But hopeful and thought-provoking and new with clean slates and clear minds.

And I love curling up with steaming cup of tea and Doris Day with my sketchbook or novel, curled up in a sweater or blanket. And I love the sound of the crackling fire and the pitter patter of drops with the aid of dim lights to lull me into a deep slumber.

There's only one thing I hate about rain:

That it's never here to stay.

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It hardly rains where I live so I appreciate the rare moments of beauty I get to witness of it very much. It really is wonderful.

Bien à vous (yours truly),