There is something about rain in art which appeals to me. To be sure, I like all kinds of art, and I am especially drawn to photography of old windows, doors and barns, but there is something about rain that hits the bullseye of my soul.
I suppose some people wouldn't understand this trait, and possibly assume I'm melancholy, but that's not so at all.
There is music in the rain. The drumming on a rooftop, the soft crackling as it falls on a pile of autumn leaves, the swish of car tires on wet streets, the plip-plop of raindrops on an umbrella.
Rain is a backdrop for color. The grey and clouds make red raincoats, yellow pansies, a candle in a window, or a blue gazebo in the town square appear vibrant and alive.
Rain softens the hard edges of city life, so the street lights and shop windows glow and beckon.
I especially love the juxtaposition of a raging storm outside, and the calmness and warmth inside. For me, the perfect weekend is a rainy one in which we are all home.
And there is something about rain that makes me reach for a book of poetry ...
Souls And Rain-Drops
~by Sidney Lanier
Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
Then vanish, and die utterly.
One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.
So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.
One might not know that souls had place
Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.