It seems strange to me when I run into people who hate it when it rains. As the title of our blog suggests, Kris and I are not those people. We love walking the dogs in light rainstorms or bunking down at home with a good book during the bigger ones. Often storms inspire us to write.
I can sympathize with those who don't like having their plans ruined by weather or those who have survived terrible hurricanes, tornadoes, or other weather related disasters and come out of them shaken. I remember when I was with my little cousin one time he started screaming when a storm blew through because he had recently encountered a tornado and he worried that it would happen again.
Mainly I'm talking about the ones that make the grass greener and occasionally put on a good, but safe, show. I like to think that loving storms is a trait that I learned from my dad. My parents can't recall me ever slipping into their bedroom during a bad storm. When I did wake up late at night to find the sky covered in black with bright flashes of light filling the air, my first reaction was to go down the stairs to my parent's porch to watch the storm with my dad. Sometimes my mom would be out with him, occasionally my brother, even my sister, although she didn't like the thunder. Me, I loved it. My dad would quietly play his guitar and after a big streak of lightening we would count the seconds until the thunder followed after it.
I loved the energy that it contained and although it was sometimes startling, it was always marvelous. I think that's why I love writing on rainy days with a lit candle nearby and a steaming cup of cocoa. It reminds me of when I was little and I could stand amazed as I watched the power of a storm sweep in and take me over.