It's rare these days, that I feel inspired to write something for my blog, but today, or more precisely, yesterday, I had that moment.
Because it rained.
Oh, big deal? Maybe to people back in the motherland (England) where it rains throughout the year, but here in Norway it's been something like five or six months since it rained. Yes, since November!
It's curious the feelings the rain has evoked. Laying in bed this morning it was of hiking, hearing the wind and the rain in the trees, the sound of power, nature, elements. The returning grey rather than pretty whiteness, reminding me of walking to school on wet September mornings. The cool, reaching fingertips prompting me to rushing to bring the washing in out of their reach.
From the cold numbness of stable weather systems, constantly producing less than zero degree weather, allowing kids to play outside but remaining pretty dry through winter, today they are scurrying off to school with their rain jackets and pants on, parents hurriedly herding behind them. The trees carry the birdsong from the tops, as if a jungle has suddenly become rampant. The rain washes snow away, leaving contrails of ice and compacted snow where people have made their paths, ochre grass weakly bordering the waving banners and waking up. The strange, new, rancid smell of earth, hidden for so long, builds and is rinsed clean again. A svartetrøst sings. A blackbird, reminding me of England, like the rain, it feels home.
Because it rained.
Oh, big deal? Maybe to people back in the motherland (England) where it rains throughout the year, but here in Norway it's been something like five or six months since it rained. Yes, since November!
It's curious the feelings the rain has evoked. Laying in bed this morning it was of hiking, hearing the wind and the rain in the trees, the sound of power, nature, elements. The returning grey rather than pretty whiteness, reminding me of walking to school on wet September mornings. The cool, reaching fingertips prompting me to rushing to bring the washing in out of their reach.
From the cold numbness of stable weather systems, constantly producing less than zero degree weather, allowing kids to play outside but remaining pretty dry through winter, today they are scurrying off to school with their rain jackets and pants on, parents hurriedly herding behind them. The trees carry the birdsong from the tops, as if a jungle has suddenly become rampant. The rain washes snow away, leaving contrails of ice and compacted snow where people have made their paths, ochre grass weakly bordering the waving banners and waking up. The strange, new, rancid smell of earth, hidden for so long, builds and is rinsed clean again. A svartetrøst sings. A blackbird, reminding me of England, like the rain, it feels home.
Helen, I really enjoyed this piece, coming from warmer climes where we are accustomed to rain, and getting wet, I can relate to the sentiments expressed here. We still have not had much rain where I live and now there are fire restrictions in the forests till October. I look forward to your next thought provoking article.
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