Heavy With Rain

Today has been heavy with rain. It has formed perfect ponds in the garden. I am excited, foolishly expecting water lilies to grow. Or frogs to cavort.

The grass squeaks like freshly washed hair. It is light green.

The birds sit on the fence, heads pulled in, feathers ruffled like punks, holding their beaks on an angle to avoid choking on a raindrop.

I brave the roads to go to the fish markets. A truck has dropped a sack of potatoes. Cars squeal to avoid them. It is inevitable they will turn to soggy mash.

Near the markets fifty seagulls chatter on the grass at Blackwattle Bay waiting for fish that have been washed downstream. They smooth their breasts, avid as day traders gauging the performance of the Dow Jones.

One, two, three people lose their umbrellas to the wind. My umbrella obstinately flips inside out and refuses to flip back. The wind encircles us, slapping, pushing, pinning our hair to our faces. A little boy cries as his blanket blows out of his stroller. A valiant teenager saves it from the main road and returns it. The little boy clutches it like it is his most prized possession.

A woman is crying at the lights, waiting for the walk sign. Her bottom lip quivers. She turns her face to the rain to disguise her tears. I understand because sometimes I feel like crying in the rain. It is the only time it is really safe to cry with abandon.

I think of the purple umbrella I used to have with the beautiful white handle. I think of it every time it rains. I wish I hadn’t given it to Fiona Murray. At the time I thought she loved it more than I did and I felt sorry for her having to walk to school in the rain without an umbrella. That umbrella has been on my mind for years. Giving it up is one of my regrets.

After I have bought my fish the rain drops as if poured from an enormous jug. It bounces on the road like bullets. I swear and say I hate going to the fish markets. I say it every time it rains.

Heavy rain like this makes me think of second chances as the dust-filled days are washed away.

Tomorrow the sun might just shine again. And the day will be laundered and sparkling.

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21 thoughts on “Heavy With Rain

  1. What vivid visuals you bring to life through your analogies and similes, Miss Sel. I felt I was right there with you, understanding in full the sights, sounds, smells, and taste of each moment. Thank you for a wonderfully creative start to my Saturday morning! xoxo

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  2. GREAT analogy: “The grass squeaks like freshly washed hair”. But I loved the last two sentences SO VERY MUCH.

    PS:You made me feel like I am THERE with you when I read your posts!

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  3. Fantastically evocative post! I felt like I was there. Listening to the sound of the rain as it falls, taking in that fresh smell that usually accompanies a heavy downpour. Oh, and I hope that the frogs weren’t cavorting too much! From what I’ve been told they can be rather noisy buggers! :o)

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  4. Hi STEPH:
    You are more than welcome. I do like a nice rainy day!

    Hi MELEAH:
    That is the ultimate compliment. Thank you so much. You have made me grin 😀

    Hi MANOJ:
    Oh yes, of course, I forgot the smell didn’t I? It’s a glorious smell – so fresh and new. I love it. We do have a couple of frogs in our garden. They are great croakers, almost as noisy as the cicadas.

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  5. What a beautiful series of rain pictures, brought to mind. As you probably remember, I love rain so this was a wonderful post to enjoy here tonight. I love the sun too so let it shine…soon! 😉

    Hugs Sel and Happy Sunday, G

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  6. Great post Selma, very vivid. Yep it’s been raining heavily in Sydney. A few nights ago, out west, the downpour was torrential, of biblical porportions. As per usual, let’s hope the rain falls where it is needed. Cheers, DavidM

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  7. Hi PUNATIK:
    It’s absolutely true. There’s no place like home!

    Hi JENNIFER:
    Sometimes I think in snapshots. It’s an odd thing. So glad you liked it.

    Hi GERALDINE:
    I am also a big fan of rain as long as it isn’t too windy at the same time. You can’t go out in that kind of rain. It’s supposed to be sunny on Tuesday which will make a nice change.

    Hi DAVID:
    It was biblical here too. I do so hope it is falling in the dams and on the parched farmland. Here’s hoping!

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  8. Oh how I wish my dust-filled days could be washed away! I remember well the Australian summer rain from my Brisbane days. And particularly the smell of the hot tarmac after it had fallen.

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  9. I like the views here, I think the rain puts people in certain moods and not always good but I enjoy a good rain pour now and then – though I’m a big fan of going to the fish market

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  10. Hi KATE:
    That smell of the hot tarmac is something else. It always reminds me of rain in Australia. It is nice when rain washes away all the heat and dust. I hope you get some rain soon.

    Hi LISSA:
    I like the fish markets too. They are a fun place to visit. But in the rain not so much. I enjoy a bit of a downpour too.

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  11. Lovely evocative prose Selma. You could turn this into a poem with those lovely images, similes and other poetic stuff. You will just have to let go of that umbrella you gave to your friend (and what a nice thing to do) – it’s time to move on. May your day be ‘laundered and sparkling’.

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  12. Beautifully written, as usual!

    ‘Rain’ and Sydney’ always makes me think of ‘the day we didn’t see the Endeavour’. We’d just got off the bus at Darling Harbour, and the heavens opened, so we went into Star City for something to eat, instead.

    The bus stop is only about 50 yards from the entrance to the complex … but we still got soaked!

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  13. Liked all this so much – your visuals are stunning – like the woman turning her head. I can see her there, so plainly…

    I remember looking up at the sky after Hurricane Alicia and it occurred to me the most beautiful skies are after tremendous storms. We just have to live through the rough stuff long enough to get to enjoy the sunshine. 😀

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  14. Hi GABRIELLE:
    You are kind to say that but poetry is really not my forte. I had a short story published about ten years ago about a woman who couldn’t write poetry. It was a quirky little thing about this woman who saw beautiful images everywhere and could describe them in prose but when she tried to form poems with them they turned to shadows on the walls. Looking back, I think it was autobiographical. You’re right – I have to let that umbrella go. It’s been 25 years!

    Hi ROSHAN:
    Thank you so much, hon!

    Hi TRAVELRAT:
    As you know, when it rains in Sydney it rains. No fancy little raincoats and delicate umbrellas here – a full body tarpaulin-type outfit is the only way to go. And maybe a raft. My Mum just told me a friend of hers who lives on the upper north shore said that there are leeches in the gardens everywhere there. Apparently, one of the rivers broke its banks during last week’s rain and the leeches have been released. Can you imagine? Gross.

    Hi TEX:
    You are so right about the beautiful skies. Yesterday the skies were stunning. Brilliant blue. The grass looked like it had just stepped out of the Pixar studios. It was gorgeous. I really felt like I was on a movie set!

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  15. Don’t talk to me about raincoats …

    when I was over in 1991, I bought a ‘Drizabone’ raincoat … still have it, but would you believe, it was hanging behind the door at home!

    ‘You’re not lugging that great thing around half the world … it doesn’t rain that mush in Sydney’ HAH! Two days later came the ‘great hailstorm’ … and we spoke to someone who had to have a new windscreen in his car.

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  16. Hi TRAVELRAT:
    I know. I know. We don’t do anything by halves in Sydney. There is nothing meek or drizzling about our rain. It’s full metal jacket rain all the way!

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  17. I hate to admit this but I am GREEN with envy. I can’t remember the last time we saw rain but I’m fairly certain it was some time last year. We’ve got another official heat wave starting up again this week and I’m about at the point now where I’m ready to throw myself under a bus. Please let this be the last one.

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  18. Hi GYPSY:
    Oh no. There is only so much heat people can take. You have had a brutal summer in SA. I am hoping it is the last one too. I am so sorry you have to go through that again.

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