Bloop.

What's It To You?

I met a toad jumping about in what I now know to have been a hig.  See definition (according to Weather Facts: British Weather Terms - Weather UK - weatheronline.co.uk) below.

hig (Also called ig)

In England, a sharp, short-lived storm of rain or wind. 

Obviously excited to introduce said toad acquaintance to others via In Distant Woods, I searched a bit for quotes or poetry I could incorporate into this post to support my natural opinion that rainstorms are lovely, happy occurrences.  However, I actually could find no lines describing rain as magical, lighthearted, or pleasant.  At best, a writer expressed it was nice to walk in, but otherwise rain was described as a thing of harshness, with lack of concern for what it falls down upon.  I'd forgotten to consider that rain is a like a beating to the earth.

“The rain to the wind said,

You push and I'll pelt.'

They so smote the garden bed

That the flowers actually knelt,

And lay lodged--though not dead.

I know how the flowers felt.” 

― Robert Frost

I wondered if everyone feels this way about cloudbursts?

cloud·burst

ˈkloudˌbərst/

noun

noun: cloudburst; plural noun: cloudbursts

1. a sudden, violent rainstorm.

So, innocent droplets or ominous sky?

Do you open your window to listen?  Do you step outside?  Do you slip on your raincoat?  

Does a downpour draw smiles from you, or make you weep?

Even the rain song from Bambi (granted, with a generous helping of thunder and lightning) was slightly more darkness than delight (or do you disagree?):

Bambi - Little April shower (English) - YouTube

  

Is a rainstorm dreamy?  Painful?  Miraculous?  Does rain fall like bullets, or sympathy, or tears of remorse?  Does it refresh, nourish, drench, or drown?  Does it make you ache, or sooth your pain?  Is it music, or noise, or silence?

Is your imagination stirred or stifled by rainy weather?  Does your mind become restless, or does rain clear your thoughts?  Does the rhythm lull you to sleep?  Is it comfort or fury or bliss to you? 

Does your mood sway with each rainfall, depending on your own condition, or what book you are reading, or what was left outside that you don't want wet?  Or, does your reaction depend on who is caught in the torrent with you?

Or is the rain that familiar yet unwelcome visitor, who comes when it chooses and talks nonsense as long and loud as it desires and bashes on your doors and windows... Pounding, pounding, pounding.

Does rainfall stifle your laughter?  Or is it a kiss, reminding you that you're loved?

Sorry for pelting you with so many questions. Whatever your thoughts, back to the toad's contagious gladness.  This bumpy fellow was leaping around in the rain like it was his birthday.  

Toss That Idea

Oops.  I took way too long time to make the salad.

For Grandpa on His Birthday

I let him see the crane in my sketchbook, but I didn't explain why I drew it, and why for him.  Days ago at the zoo, of all the animals, I found this creature the most intriguing.  He had a lovely dab of red on his head.  Walking slowly up and down the bank in silence, he seemed lost in thought.  I found him quite mysterious.  How did he appear both solemn and cheerful, both at once?  The other animals seemed unbearably sad, perfectly satisfied, bored, or apathetic.  But this crane seemed to have his head on straight.  Though wearied, he lived beautifully.  Calmly.  Hopefully.  I told someone standing next to me that he seemed like he would make a good friend.  Well, I don't know anything at all about the animal's personality, I guess.  But add in 'handsome, kind, and loving' and it all describes my Grandpa.  He's quite wonderful.