I am glad for the rain. Yes, you read that correctly. I try to be glad among the recently terrible weather, because it makes an indoor life more tolerable.
I won't deny that rain can be depressing. The monochromatic grey sky remains unchanging throughout the day; without the sun the hours pass less noticeably, and long days become even longer.
Naturally, the tear-like dripping of water from an invisible cheek provides interpretable pathetic fallacy for melancholy lives. It's so much easier to be sad when it's raining.
The rain prompts one to acknowledge a source of internal sunshine in order to satisfy the seemingly solar-powered positive attitude. I admire people who don't let the rain get them down. You know the ones ...
Those individuals who go outside with a parka on and say encouraging things like, "Oh well, at least the grass will be getting a good water, she's been looking a bit parched recently."
What other positive attributes can we string out of rain? Well, the sound of rain would be an obvious answer. Everybody likes the sound of rain pattering on the roof, dripping off awnings, rushing through gutters.
I'm not sure why other people like it, but for me it's confirmation that it's perfectly acceptable to remain inside and spend the day reading, writing, and complaining about the weather. Occasionally (such as now) I can even do more than one of those activities at once.
Yippee! Ah, all right, that's it! I'm all out of good things to say about the rain. I'll admit that it's basically my least favourite weather pattern, right behind earthquakes.
I would rather any day, even if that day must be spent inside, be sunny. Wouldn't you? Every now and then, Dunedin gets it just right: cloudless, bright skies, lazy breeze, hot.
Even a chocolate wrapper on the street, for example, can't escape the uplift induced by a sunny day ... When the silver plastic reflects the light, and the way it dances so daintily on the breath of the wind, it becomes too pretty to be classified as litter, and all because of sunshine.
(Regardless, you should always pick it up. Be a Tidy Kiwi).
Unlike sun, rain makes the world (and particularly North Dunedin) much quieter: Dead-end street cricket games pack up, front/back lawns cannot be picnicked on, and nobody says "hello" as they pass you on the footpath because your umbrella covers your face.
Rain pervades thoughts: It becomes the one thing that bothers you when it's quiet and you're alone, walking home in the evening. Instead of worrying about the pressing issues of life, puddles and splash from cars demand all concern. The poets were wrong; the rain is no muse.
Perhaps I need to develop my internal sunshine, and then the rain won't bother me so much. The rain causes me to ramble.
Words flow like the water from those clouds above - unceasing, unheeding, often irritating.
People refer to discussion about "the weather" as a mocking, stereotypical small-talk topic. What a shame. Weather really shouldn't be confined to such an arbitrary aspect of conversation; it's more meaningful than that.
Weather is perplexing, important, sometimes life-changing. Weather helps to determine our mood, our outfit and our daily activities.
Hold on, what is this? Silence outside. I am glad that the rain has stopped. Did it hear my annoyance? Regardless, the rain has stopped. And so now too will my words.
- Katie Kenny studies English at the University of Otago.
