It's supposed to rain today.  I hope it does.  I love rain.  I love the way British Columbia looks when it rains.  Everything is gray and green.  The world seems more gentle when there is that light mist covering it.  There's something so nice about sitting inside, and the smell of the world being washed comes in through the window...
It makes me think of jazz, slow, sedate and melancholy.  It's an independent feeling.  It's entirely possible for me to wrap myself in the world when it rains, and believe that nothing can touch me.  Like I myself am a raindrop: completely alone and unique in a sea of people and faces that are SO similar...yet somehow I am infinitely important and adequately insignificant.  It makes me think of driving home on Sunday nights when I was a child, in Kingston.  I'd have left church and still couldn't see out the window.  So I would watch the streetlamps and raindrops make patterns on the glass, and Dad would put on CBC jazz, and nobody would say anything.  Sometimes I would lean up against the door and fall asleep, hearing the sound of the rain on the roof mix with the lonely music.  When the car would stop I would pretend to be asleep so dad would carry me to bed.  I loved it when he did that.  I felt so safe.
I love sitting outside when it rains, on the porch.  Watching the shift in the world. I love walking in the rain, under an umbrella.  Or in my yellow raincoat.  One day I would love to own a pink raincoat. The rain soothes me, and I don't know why.  Maybe it's the whole 'cause and effect' thing.  Rain falls, everything gets wet.  Rain falls, everything gets quiet.  The movements and types of movements change.