As I drove home from visiting a ninety-year old in a Rest Home across the other side of town, the heavens opened.
My windscreen wipers were going at top speed, but still I could hardly see. Some cars stopped.
It was a relief to get home safely, but soon I was out in the rain again, clearing blocked drains down the driveway.
As bucket-loads fell from the sky, I remembered how familiar this was in my childhood. I grew up in Taranaki, under a mountain that unleashed abundant rain throughout the year. In winter we would huddle under the bed-clothes, not wanting to get up, while the rain thrummed on the tin roof. In the weekends we could stay there, listening to the children's request session on our little crystal set radios with headphones.
Today was one of those days when I was tempted to stay in bed, as it was wet and cold outside from the start. But I had a visit to make. When I arrived, the old person was well and truly tucked up in bed. She had had enough of life today. What could I say and do, but hold her hand, and say that I knew how that felt. Some days are like that. If I recognise such a day, I've learned to cross it off and start again the next morning.
After the storm had passed, the sun came out suddenly, with brilliance. Every rain drop became a jewel,
glittering exquisitely. The grey skies had lifted, and in their place
was abundant, clear, open blue. Down from the balcony above rivulets of water still flowed. They were silver and shining in the sun, but eluded my attempts to catch them on camera.
Never mind. Today reminded me how the gloomiest of times can pass. Even when clouds block our vision and obscure all hope, the sun is never far away. I was glad I made my visit. Something lit up in both of us as I sat by the bedside of this dear one.
11 comments:
Mother Nature certainly showed her hand yesterday Juliet. We saw the deluge in Auckland on the TV news. It was a real deluge with torrents pouring everywhere.
I love the pearls of water you have captured in your photos. They sparkle with hope and life.
Lynley, Auckland certainly collected it yesterday. Pearls of water is a lovely description of the drops on the leaves. Thank you.
Juliet, the rain can be very refreshing and does bring about many jewels when its over. Great to have you visit my blog, looking forward to hearing more about your book on ageing, credits to my blog most appreciated.
Mother Nature seems to be demonstrating her powers in all kinds of ways lately. I'm glad to know there were pleasures in your rainy day.
Amanda, great to see you here, and thanks for visiting. Yes, I will have links to your blog included and will keep you posted about progress with the book.
Ruth, the extreme nature of the rain storm made quite a contrast with the sun that flashed out afterwards. Thank you.
That looks like quite a downpour! Unbelievable how after all that deluge the skies parted and out came the sun. What a wonderful moment that would have been - and long may it last! xx
Hi Charlie, yes the rain burst even made the news. But afterwards was magical. Thanks for dropping by.
What a thoughtful post, Juliet, and you are such a thoughtful person. Gloomy times do serve us well in remembering the better times. Sometimes a good rain is almost like a much needed cry, isn't it?
We could certainly use some of that rain, though not as torrential as you experienced, here in the US. Each day breaks another record for heat and lack of rainfall. I know there is a lesson in there, somewhere.
Penny, so nice to see you back again. Your drought-ridden areas could certainly do with some good rain. I wish I could send it across! 'Like a much needed cry' - so very true. Thank you for your kind remarks.
Over here in England we should be having summer and yet it rains every day, huge droplets like tropical storms. It also makes me remember my childhood days in NZ when we used to lie in bed and listen to the rain beating on the metal roof - I loved that sound! Fortunately, we are on high ground and there haven't been any floods near us. Things in the garden have either rotted or grown abnormally large and the house is in danger of being enveloped in a very robust ivy!
Thanks Anne, the rain does sound relentless. I'm glad you are elevated enough to avoid catching the worst of it.
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