a rainy christmas isn't quite the romantic ideal, but it is some form of precipitation, so i suppose it's better than nothing. not quite winter wonderland, not quite california christmas: we sit somewhere in the middle.
i've had a rocky relationship with rain. in the past, i've found it hard to look at rain without thinking gloomy, depressed, and tears. it could be because rain isn't too common in the southern utah desert that i grew up in, and i've always preferred sunny skies. but the places i've lived outside of southern utah have taught me one or two things about rain. in provo, rain comes more frequently than in st george and i've learned the art of the umbrella. i also learned that it's helpful to wear a skirt on rainy days, because my pants {usually too long, because of my shortness} usually drag in the wetness and stay wet all day long. wearing a skirt in the rain wasn't a problem in uruguay, because i already wore one every day! in uruguay, i learned that rain in southern utah {or provo, for that matter} is nothing. i learned what it really means to be raining cats and dogs {and cows, and pigs, and sheep}. when it rains there, it rains with all its heart and soul. in london, i learned how truly lovely rain can be, and that despite soggy days, london is still beautiful.
so i've learned that rain can be good. there is something deliciously melancholy about a rainy day, and something refreshing about the feeling of the earth being washed and scrubbed clean. and there is no better smell than rain in southern utah {it's the sagebrush}.
nevertheless, when the sun finally makes an appearance again, i will welcome it.
