We had an unexpected deluge here early on Wednesday morning. I was tucked up in bed, electric blanket on as I listened to it drumming on our roof. The pitter patters, the rat-a-tat-tats, the occasional flash of thunder then a gust of wind cutting through the rain’s rhythm.
It was gym morning but for once, the lure of the treadmill overcame any desire I had to just roll over and burrow even further down into the sheets. It must have been because I got to smell the air as I drove to the gym. There’s that particular smell in the air after that first drenching rain after a glorious spell of sunny autumn days. It’s earthy yet refreshing, cooling yet energising. I wonder when one of the major perfumiers will get around to bottling this scent.
The rain requires appropriate footwear to be worn in its presence. Hiking shoes if you’re going to be covering a variety of weekend terrains such as your driveway, the drivers seat of your car, the occasionally treacherous carpark at your local Westfield and then the sometimes slippery flooring of said Westfield as you make your way through errands and offspring shepherding duties.
Or gumboots if all you’re going to do is head out your back door and with no other agenda than to splash through as many puddles and islands of soggy lawn as possible.
And then there’s the scarves and the water repellant puffer jackets to complete the look.
Dress for the rain and it will respect you in return. Or something like that. But only on the weekends. A rainy weekday is a completely different kettle of fish. A less rose-tinted one at that where you keep everything crossed that your umbrella won’t get blown inside out on your commute and that the wind won’t blow the rain at the precise angle necessary to saturate your bag of paperwork, lunch and other essentials.