I grew up in a very rainy place. Belgium. After living in New England and never quite feeling at home, I came to Oregon to be with my sister. And here, I found a mountainous, lush version of the place I used to call home. So I decided to find an Oregonian, and marry him so I could stay. Okay, so that's not the precise version of the story, but it's close enough. And as I sit here, feeling that distinct chill of the dampness drying from the cuffs of my jeans, while outside, the rain falls with an audible hiss, I realize that I love the rain. It makes me feel cozy. And like I'm home. I think it's funny when I hear Oregonians mumble and grumble about it. You'd think they'd be used to it by now.
On a day like today, after spending my afternoon collecting stormwater samples, I want to go home and make something warm and comforting for supper. To curl up on the sofa with Flower and Simon and my sweet husband, and to listen to the rain pitter-patter on the roof.
This is the first time I've felt this at home anywhere since we left Belgium. And with all this rain, I should have no problem growing some roots in one place finally.
This weather inspired the little image you see heading this post today. It's so warm, when it's cold and wet. ::hee::
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