The Big Wet One

The Big Wet One

It seems we have officially entered the Eternal Tunnel of Dreck here in British Columbia. It’s been raining for about four days. I lose count after three. It’s big rain too, the kind that overflows the bird bath, knocks the remaining golden leaves from the trees and thunders on the skylights so loudly that only Mary Hart’s insouciant babble on the tv cuts through the din. With a nod to Steve Martin’s movie Bowfinger, I’d pretty much classify this as  ‘chubby rain’.

I hate it. This is the weather that hands out bacon to the black dogs of depression. If you buy into the theory of Seasonal Affective Disorder you are already scrambling for your special lamp. The travel section of the local newspaper, with its images of long-lost hedonism in the heat, has never been more of a must read.

There are people who love the rain. Their favorite films are Singing in the Rain, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and, probably, Schindler’s List. They dig the grey. They have the capacity to soldier on, to look for the silver lining, to wait for the inevitable, glorious rainbow. Frankly, they are a big pain in the ass!

Moisture lovers are always quick with the cold-weather, dampened quip. You’ll catch them saying things like, ‘ It’s the rain that makes everything green’, and, ‘At least you don’t have to shovel it! ‘. Nothing personal, but I’d like to take their umbrella and snap it open where the sun don’t shine.

Seventy two hours of solid rain is all it takes for me to forget about those glorious days of the summer past. Three days washes two months away just like that.

I have to put my scenic vacation photos on the computer as my desktop background. I have to…I won’t survive otherwise. This is my current selection.

Bermuda April 17-26,2007 031

Transport me now

This is Flatts Inlet in Bermuda. I sit and stare deeply at it on the screen and try to will myself into the cockpit of that sailboat.

If I fixate long enough I can almost hear the rhythmic lapping of the water on the hull, smell the jasmine in the air and feel the beckoning warmth of the Bermudian sun on my face. We all have our kindred corners of creation and this is one of mine. Take my ashes here when I’m all done, when I’ve managed to endure my last dismal winter of discontent. Wait for a beautiful sunny day like this and let my grumpy soot waft away on the breeze…with nary a single raindrop to bring me down.

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2 Responses to “The Big Wet One”

  1. Carla Maria Lucchetta Says:

    Dave,
    I know the rainy season is hard on you and many others. I hope it doesn’t last long this year.

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