When was the last time you intentionally went out into the rain? Not because you had to, but because you wanted to experience the pulse of it on your skin? Because you wanted to sense how it transforms not only the landscapes we live in but the very light we see?
If you had asked me that same question a couple of years ago, I think I would have answered very firmly in the negative. Quite unconsciously, while I considered the sun to be “good weather” – to be glorious and beautiful everything else was pretty written off as “bad”. Rubbish day at work? Rain had become not a living, fundamental thing, but a metaphor for mood and misery. It was damp and dour. Soaking and sombre. The rain on our parade.