Though it seems to have abated (at least for the time being), I was very glad to see that October started with several straight days of damp, grey skies. There’s no better weather than a nice autumn rain. Summer rains aren’t the same; they tend to sweep in out of nowhere, bringing torrential rain for short windows of time, or else they manifest as black and looming thunderstorms. An autumn rain endures. It can last for days. Even if the rain isn’t falling every moment, the sky is a uniform grey and the air is thick with damp. If you’re lucky, there’s even a light fog every now and then.
I like the rain. I do some of my best writing when it’s overcast and wet. My desk is nicely situated next to a window that overlooks the small courtyard behind my building. On rainy days, I’m often found at that desk, window open, wrapped in a sweater, listening to the sound of the raindrops as I sip my tea and type merrily away. I can’t really explain why it tends to happen that way; it’s not as if the rain keeps me inside or prevents me from doing other activities.
Last autumn it was my ritual to go for walks during dark, rainy nights. There’s a wonderful pub up the street from where I live, dimly-lit with a big, old wooden bar and wall hangings that would make the Addams Family proud. When a night started to look particularly dark and damp, I’d grab whatever I was reading at the moment, take up my umbrella, and make the five-minute trek up the rainy hill, past the big old Victorian houses, and into the pub, where I’d spend hours in the semi-darkness with my book and a few beers.
Those were always nice, relaxing evenings. Hopefully October will afford me plenty of opportunities to have those evenings again.