Pouring rain here. Pouring. It’s dumping like the city’s bought the five-buck carwash, a hundred-foot tall sign telling the metro area to “PULL FORWARD”. As I’ve mentioned, rain is a blessing in this dry climate, and even when it sounds like BBs are being poured on the roof, I crave more. I also appreciate having that roof above me. I think weather is a ying/yang proposition. It can’t truly be enjoyed unless you’re witnessing it from a place of refuge. Heavy rain requires a dry outlook, and cold windy nights are best experienced under a foot-deep down comforter.
Which brings me to the joys of sleep in cozy places. I once was rocked to sleep in a small compartment on the train from Luxor to Cairo, whizzing by lush marshes bracketed by deadly expanses of swirling sand. Sleeping on a small sailboat is equally alluring and restful, and I’ve been tucked tight into a bunk with the sound of waves slapping the hull, halyards tinging against a mast, ducks chattering on landing into our secluded cove.
I’ve found in life that it’s good to never underestimate the joys of sleep and security while the weather runs wild outside.
Writer, architect, father, husband.
So true!