For me, there’s something soothing about a rainy day. I’ve heard many people complain about rain or stormy weather, but I’ve never understood it. I’ve always felt a connection to precipitation, gloomy clouds, mists, pitter-patting, & puddles. As an introvert, the comfort of burrowing into blankets, curling up with a book, snuggling in with pets, enjoying a hot mug of tea or coffee, feeling the warmth of knit socks or sweaters, & gazing upon the glow of a hearth or candles provides me with a deep sense of calm.

There’s something cleansing about rainshowers, bathing everything with life-giving water, stimulating new growth.

Cities appear prettier in the rain. Paris remains notorious for glittering & dazzling, the City of Lights reflected in the rivulets of water darting down streets or on the Seine, in fountain pools, or on rain-slicked surfaces. London famously displays itself beautifully on a rainy day, fog steaming up off of the Thames, countless statues & monuments bedecked with glossy surfaces. A kind of magic emerges on a rainy day, transforming the world into something new, different, hidden from sunlight.

And then there are the umbrellas…

For me, I pride myself on being prepared with a trusted umbrella, citing E. M. Foster’s Schlegels with “Is yours a hooky or a nobbly?” You could add, “Is yours patterned, paisley, floral, colored, or a trusted monochromatic hue?”  Black always makes a bold statement, classic & venerable, impervious to smudges or marks. And today there’s the question of an umbrella’s being compact & portable, since most Americans don’t live in the kind of clime that promises showers each day like Jolly Old England.

In all candor, I’ve long envied Mako beneath her striking umbrella, fending off monsoons of rain in Pacific Rim. Oh, my kingdom (had I one) for such an umbrella.

And I do feel a lot like Helen Schlegel collecting umbrellas, but I do so not absent-mindedly or by filching… Rather, I tend to purchase ones that strike my fancy or am gifted them by employers or conference organizations. It’s a quirk. Or maybe it’s pretention, a symbol of sly British rogueishness, like John Steed in the 1960s Avengers show or Harry Hart in the more recent Kingsman comic book & film series? Don’t even get me started on raincoats & galoshes. Wellies & waders.

Whatever the case, rainy days bring me considerable happiness, unlike the ubiquitously reinforced gloom & doom attached to Romantic notions of sturm und drang. As an introvert, even imagining a rainy day provides me moments of calm & stillness, providing me with an imagined place of respite.