I read a column the other day decrying our obsession with bright sunny days as ‘good’ . . . and dark rainy ones as, well, as something to be endured.
But in this summer of extensive drought, and with climate harbingers sounding ever more doom-laden, real good rain is something to be cheered, surely, the columnist opined, so why don’t the weather people get off this kick of sunshine? I guess it’s a bit like the negative connotations of left-handedness, or any of many numerous aspersions we ascribe to colours, or stature, or whatever. Furthermore, it’s just lazy. It’s weather! Love the rain as much as the sunshine, why not?
Speaking of laziness, I have a few pet hates too in the cliché department. One of the current worst, in my opinion, is the one that goes ‘You could be forgiven for thinking . . . ‘ which is used in almost every newscast here in the UK. Find another starting phrase, why don’t you, I remonstrate with the telly, but it gets trotted out again and again. But this blog is about joys, not pet peeves, and today it’s about the delights of rain.
As we passed through the East Allen valley on our way to our North Pennines home, we remarked on the increase in tree coverage that we’ve seen over the last thirty years. The new trees at the bottom, too, are growing into real groves. It won’t be long before their new root systems and leafy residues create a massive sponge again across the lower fellsides and water run-off will be minimised. Flooding downstream should be alleviated at the source, as it were. I keep hoping our willows will be a permanent fixture of the lower pasture, down below the spring, within our lifetime.
With less risk of flooding, and more water stored within the sloping banks of the rivers, we can revel in the downpouring of rain. And no, we could not be forgiven for decrying that downpour, thanks weather people. Like farmers the world over, we can enthuse over a really good rainy day, can’t we?!
Our faithful cat comes darting through the rain drops to importune me for her morning food. She’s soaking, and she rubs herself against my leg as I squeeze out the fish in jelly into her bowl. Okay Kali cat, okay, it’s that bit uncomfortable, but we’ve waited long enough for it, haven’t we?
The joy of a real good rain.