A rainy day comes as a relief. Rain is your pass to stay inside, to retreat. It's cozy and safe, hanging out on this side of the gray. But then the sun comes out in the afternoon, and there's disappointment, even fear, because the world will now resume, and it expects your participation. People will get dressed and leave their houses and go places and do things. Stepping out into the big, whirling, jarringly sunny world--a world that just a few minutes ago was so confined and still and soft and understated, and refreshingly gloomy--seems overwhelming.
Tonight it's supposed to rain. A lot. And I'm going right out in it. There are times that a rainy day does seem as though it's a free pass ... but for me, it's more of a celebration to see Mother Nature in action. Sometimes, it's a gentle, nurturing rain ... other times, it's a violent thunderstorm. I don't mind being out in either one of those scenarios ... or any of the one that fall between.