Rainy Day AND a Monday...

The Weather Channel and I are developing quite a relationship. It has become one of my good friends here in this land of milk and honey...and precipitation! 

I've barely whispered my "Hello, Handsome," before I reach for my phone on the nightstand. This morning, the Weather Channel let me know that we were experiencing 100% humidity, and it was 74 degrees. Whew. Already? It was only 4:45.

100% humidity. I don't really know what that even means, climatologically-speaking; I just know it is so very, very damp, and the air is like an over-soaked sponge. Does the humidity have to pass a tipping point, say 101%, to actually release the torrent of rain that is building up in the atmosphere?

We plan everything around the weather here: day trips, photo shoots, church picnics; even my early morning walks. The Weather Channel helps us figure out when it's too muggy to walk, when the possible storms will hit, and when we will have a dry spell. I usually walk and talk with my husband while he drives his 75 minute commute to work, but the Weather Channel says there won't be a break in the rains today until between 9 and 10. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. 0% chance of rain sounds promising, even if it's only brief.
  

Having grown up in Virginia, a land of rain and gorgeous green landscapes, I am no stranger to humidity. But after nearly four decades of desert living in Utah, it is taking some time to acclimate to this damp environment again. 

There were things I'd forgotten until the summer weather arrived in Chicagoland. Oy vey. The memories came flooding back to me. Towels never completely dry. Basements are dank. Clothes always feels wet. Hairspray is not optional for we of the flat hair tribe. It takes my jeans three days to "line dry" here vs. three hours back in the desert. No one in our neighborhood has a sprinkler system.  Grass grows at phenomenal rates. 

Our yard actually probably needs to be mown twice a week, but Chuck tackles the long grass each weekend, teasing that if he is late on his mowing due to the rains, he may have to bale it. It grows so TALL. It seems to have a 5 o'clock shadow of its own that no amount of grooming can keep at bay.

The first year at college in Utah, I remember talking to Daddy at the end of September. He reported that Virginia had had rain 29 out of the previous 30 days. Oh, my word. That's a lot of rain.

Rain ruined so many plans when we were growing up. Being cooped up in the house when we were kids made us cranky. My poor mother. Whenever we went camping, she always packed a rainy day bag full of coloring books and activities for us to enjoy when the inevitable rains came. 

But do you know what? I learned to love rain while living in Utah. I have a metal roof over my bedroom in my little cottage, and listening to the rain is a sweet memory from childhood. I even love lightning storms. The earth smells so fresh at the end of a storm. There are rainbows and dewy plants. Yards look better. The rain became a welcome visitor.

So, this morning, I found an old camp chair in the garage, and I sat just inside the door, listening to the rain, and watching the downpour while Chuck and I talked. As soon as it stopped, I grabbed my camera and took some photos.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for my walk. I have a very small window of opportunity, and I don't want to miss it. While I do enjoy the rain, I find I enjoy it much more from the comfort of my home, looking out the windows, than I do outside in my hiking jacket. This is one of those "Rainy Days and Mondays" that will not get me down!

The Carpenters' "Rainy Days and Mondays"