There is nothing more peaceful, more solid, than sitting by a window or on a porch and watching it rain, listening to the far-off thunder. You revel in your safety, your security, dry in the face of a storm. You smell teh rain in teh air and on the ground, the smell of the world's promise not to disappear on you - where there is water, there is life. When it's raining and you're inside, it feels certain that everything will work out, everything will be okay. The sun brings ecstatic joy, maybe, adventure, the warmth of laughter, but with adventure comes danger and laughter often sounds like crying. The sun can burn. A light rainstorm brings only calm, cool, it washes the tension out of the air and leaves the world freshly washed, crisp, ready for the sun, the light of joy, and adventure. But rain regenerates, it solidifies, it serves as a desmonstration of teh promise that everything will work out, the grass will grow and the trees will turn green, every winter will warm up eventually and every summer will cool down eventually and you are left with the in-between, the cool crisp spring day and rain. There's nothing more comforting than a spring rainstorm.

Which is odd because there is nothing so impetuous as running out in the rain. Nothing so childlike as jumping in a puddle. After all, it doesn't do to go out in the rain, get wet and muddy and dishevelled. We're civilized people, and even animals take shelter from the rain. But every time it rains, I hear the promise in every drop, and I want to go out and play. It's my farmer's blood, or something, saying - It's raining! We won't starve! Everything will be okay!. I want to dance for joy, splash in every puddle, add the percussion of my laughter to the rhythm of the rain, let the water pour down my face and the thunder ring in my ears. The sun hides behind a cloud and my own joy shines brighter in comparison. Like a bright pink or yellow raincoat, bringing some of the fierce joy of the sun into a rainy day.