Rain Story

All day today it has been raining. What did I do? I did not read a book or watch television. I did not sew or paint. I went outside and planted. I planted lupine and Echinacea and I created a circular design in my front yard with pieces of brick. I got wet and muddy. I breathed fresh, cool air and I felt good. I thought of that poem, “When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple…” It crossed my mind that I too am doing what gives me pleasure, whatever that may be.

While I was planting the flowers, I remembered my first encounter with a creek. It was probably the coolness of the day and the sound of the rain that brought back this memory.

I was a child of three or four. We had taken the ferry across to Nantucket Island and stayed in a cabin on the top of a small mountain. To get our water, we had to go to a creek with clear, cold, running water. It journeyed downwards drumming against rocks and the sides of the creek as it went. I loved its bubbly sound and that we needed to get our drinking water from it.

It was raining the day we had to leave the cabin. We had to run down the mountain in the rain ‘cause we were a little late. My mother pushed my sister’s baby carriage as we ran. My father carried our suitcases as best he could. I loved being out there in the rain, running with my family as fast as we could, heading back to the ferry.

These memories came back to me as I planted in the rain. To me, it was no wonder that I so loved being in my garden as the rain fell upon me.