“The rain, rain, rain came down, down, down / In rushing, rising rivets…”–musical words from a song from Winnie the Pooh & the Blustery Day that I’d hear, sung with the soft hiss of the needle scratching a Disney record in my room as a child. Even now, in my mid-40s, this memory surfaces in my mind on a rainy day, recalling a melody fondly played & sung. If there exists any one sound that soothes me & makes me want to snuggle into blankets & introvert the most, then it would be that of rain, falling in a steady pace. When the skies grow overcast, heavy with the burden of gray leaden clouds, I eagerly anticipate cocooning & recharging, embracing the sound of the drizzle. Knowing, as many fellow introverts do, I can say with a certain amount of confidence that most are like me–pluviophiles, lovers of rain & rainy days. Maybe that’s why I love England & the UK so much? Along with the memory of the Disney record I’d play so often, I remember the sound of rain falling on different surfaces to varying effect. There’s the sound when on a screened-in porch, with a pit-pat of precipitation that creates a rhythm & beat. Then, there’s the sound I recall when sleeping in permanent tent structures at the Girl Scout resident camp I attended for so many summers in Vermont. Rain took on a different sound when on a metal roof of a house, as opposed to the metal roof of a car.

Memories play in my mind of sitting in the old orange Volvo my mother drove, rain pelting the roof, while the strange whir & clunk of the windshield wipers created a kind of familiar pattern like a metronome. I’d stare at the raindrops which hit the passenger-side window, only to trickle down like tears on a face.

As an adult, I learned words like pluviophile & petrichor (the latter, the heady, steamy scent of rain), words that sounded so foreign but had personal meaning & positive associations. I loved wearing rain gear as a child, the boots & yellow hooded jacket, the umbrellas (“Is yours a hooky or a nobbly?” to quote Howards End), bucket hats & the cuteness of the Morton salt girl. Paddington Bear, anyone? Who could forget his classy boots, coat, & hat? Even my favorite Beatrix Potter character, Jemima Puddleduck, had “puddle” in her name. Now, I watch the little one & his obsession with Peppa Pig, & I cannot help but think I’ve been encouraging his anglophilia (Wicket, our Pembroke Welsh corgi is his), along with pluviophilia, with Peppa’s “muddy puddles.” With a cool name for rain boots like Wellies, how could anyone resist the allure of rain & all its accoutrements? That’s been one of the biggest sacrifices in living in Utah–the lack of rainy days. I miss the farm & the foggy ethereal quality of the landscape freshly doused with precipitation, with all of the verdant growth appearing almost an unbelievably bright range of greens. Like Bella Swan moving from Phoenix, Arizona, to Forks, Washington, but in reverse, I find myself in a strange landscape of dryness & heat, instead of dampness & cool, longing for New England & all of its moody climate.

It’s strange to think that I even miss the sound of cars splashing through puddles, the wind when it would pelt the rain against windows with a certain determination to catch my attention. I miss any opportunity to start a fire & curl into throw blankets with a hot cup of tea to warm my hands.

Maybe I consider rain & rainy days an introvert thing because it provides those of us who love to nestle into cosiness without guilt, losing ourselves into that sense of comfort without guilt? I mean, there’s a reason there’s a saying, “Rain check?” This simple question allows many an introvert to cancel plans last minute without having to experience guilt or the awkwardness of some silly excuse that needs to be sold with a particular earnestness. I have memories of my father taking us for car rides after several days of rain, to visit reservoirs & dams where the water levels had surged, creating swollen lakes & ponds & powerful crashing sounds of runoff pounding over the dam’s edges. My father was a kind of amateur meteorologist, you could say, so he’d track local rainfall with glass gauges plugged into the lawn, calling in the rainfall amount totals in to local radio stations. Even when I was living on the ocean front on Cape Ann, Massachusetts, I learned to love rainy days & brooding storms rolling in across the water. I could witness the power of ocean surge as walls of tidal water pounded over the breakwater meant to protect the small harbor where fishing boats found safety until the system died out or moved on. Like those boats & sloops hiding from the power of Poseidon’s wrath, I too found a certain pleasure in feeling safe. The smell of the salt air & gulls floating & crying overhead added to the atmosphere, one I still relish even if in my memory alone.

Perhaps, songs like “April Showers” from Bambi, another favorite from a Disney record, which played lyrics like, “Drip, drip, drip / Little April shower / Beating a tune / As you fall all around / Drip, drip, drip / Little April shower / What can compare / To your beautiful sound,” helped to shape these positive associations that have persisted into adulthood? I’m also reminded of Merlin’s trying to keep out the rain in his rickety tower in The Sword in the Stone, where my favorite familiar, an owl fittingly named Archimedes, found himself soaked from the leaky roof? Blast you, Disney!

And so I start to see all of the cinematic moments that helped to shape my fondness for rain in my mind, like watching Gene Kelly’s unparalleled dancing & choreography in “Singing in the Rain.” Maybe it’s the poetic associations with pathetic fallacy, where rainfall symbolizes the feelings of humans like tears falling? Perhaps it’s the eerie light cast over everything beneath a sky the color of steel? There are many, many things that contribute to my love of rain & rainy days, things that might be unique to me; & yet I know other introverts also express their admiration & appreciation of such inclement days. I think this has contributed to some of the homesickness I’ve felt while living in Utah. Don’t get me wrong, Utah & the surrounding states & national parks have been spectacular, most wondrous to behold, but I can’t help but miss the region of the country where generations of my family have called home. Even when in Merry Olde England, I cannot help but adore rainy days & umbrellas (I have quite a collection), & all of the culture associated in our collective modern memory. Even though when I’ve visited notoriously sunny places on vacations, I’ve learned from my sojourn out here in Utah & the West, that I’m a New Hampshire girl at heart. There can be too much of a supposedly good thing, in my opinion.

Dear readers & fellow introverts, do you find a rainy day as positive a thing as I do? What connections & associations do you have? Do you find a rainy day as nourishing to your soul as I do? Please share in comments if feeling so inspired!