The first response of most people when confronted with the kind of rain that bounces off the pavement, would sensibly decide to stay indoors, maybe with a nice cup of tea.
Is strait out with the dog.
As we ventured out into the downpour, I started to question my sanity.
However, once the tree line we had been walking along ended, revealing a single sphere of the setting sun piercing through the clouds and reflecting off the surface of the pond we were now walking parallel to, I decided it really didn’t matter.
I could have stayed there for hours.
Beautiful is a word I very rarely use, however, it is for moments like this I reserve it, and even then, I don’t think it’s enough.
The rain hammered down harder.
Neither of us seemed to mind.
Standing there, just me and the dog, and the sound of the rain, and the rushing water from the beck nearby, and the calls from the ducks in the rushes, with the solitary heron, the cold feeling of water running down my back, dripping from my eyelashes. With the sent of earth and foliage and water, with the setting sun and the dark clouds, I was struck with a feeling of wonder I don’t often experience.
I am not a religious person.
I do not do gods or spirituality.
But it is in these moments that I find peace.