After the Rain

In California every day is the same. Blue. Sunny.

When we moved here I was glad for that. I was so tired of Southern rain, but now I find it hard to get excited for a new day when I know it will be just the same.

I come from a place with seasons – the year begins lying dormant under a frozen blanket and then it wakes with flowers bursting before the hot months come covering everything with humidity and green again. And then there is the fall.

Every California year I mourn the autumn. As a little girl my favorite month October was filled with brilliant crimson, orange and yellow leaves, covering the trees, floating through the crisp wind and gathering a carpet on the ground. Here there is just more blue and sunny, hot until the weather cools a bit to make a nod at winter and then return to persistent, endless summer.

Here in California when fog rolls in or there is a tiny rain shower we cherish it with latte’s and a day at home, but all the while I am sad because I know this bit of weather enveloping and holding us will move on and won’t soon return. I look at the grey and drizzle and wish for thunderclaps and rain pounding the windows. I want to see the power of a storm, to feel the thrill of being held safe within and glimpse the beauty that comes after.

My family has lived many of these storms in our lives. We have seen loss and we have weathered seasons of bitter cold and black storm clouds. I don’t know if I miss the variety, the death and redemption of the earthly seasons or if I just want the sky to weep more often with me. But when the rain falls down I feel the earth acknowledging the sorrow we have lived through and reminding me of it’s constant rebirth.

And the light after the rain – it’s an otherworldly glow that comes only after storm clouds have gathered and wet has cleaned the air.

This is how it is in everything. The light after the rain is fleeting but within is a glimpse of magic beyond rhythmless pleasant weather.

I miss actual rain, but I fear to see another of life’s storms. I made these photographs the night we had a sprinkling of rain, after the skies cleared. We have lived the storms, we are deep within life’s rhythm – working, birthing, seeing death, rebuilding, hoping, waiting, working.

I know what the light after the rain looks like and I long just to linger in it.

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