Even in the rain

When I first moved to Seattle, I had a lot of what I thought of as “first friend dates.” I was new in town, knew only three people. So whenever I met someone who seemed like a friendship potential, there was a semi-awkward first coffee, or walk, or something to feel out the situation. Might this turn into a real friend? I knew from experience it takes about 2-3 years to build up a critical mass of friends in a new place.

One of these friend dates was planned as a walk around Greenlake, a large lake with a nearly 3-mile paved path around it. Once the afternoon came, however, it was raining. I didn’t know if this meant the date was cancelled, or a new plan was needed, so I called the friend potential and will never forget what she said.

“If it’s raining, we still walk.”

In other words: Welcome to Seattle. Here we do almost everything in the rain.

I was thinking about this yesterday, as the day had been dry but just before I planned to take the dog—and myself—out for a long, post-work walk, it started raining. Instead of feeling disappointed, I felt myself get excited. When the rain is soft, and you have time, wet walks can be beautiful.

In the same way that freshly fallen snow brings out details you don’t usually notice, raindrops do the same. And a wet walk in late spring, with flowers wearing the water like a scattering of diamonds, can be breathtaking. The blooms look even more beautiful than they usually do.

As we walked, it felt like a sort of Easter egg hunt—looking high and low for little bits of delight. Already we’re shifting into very late spring, there’s not much time left with these beauties.

I had never stopped to really notice what an allium bloom looks like in the rain. Amazing.

Of course, a wet walk is just another version of seeking wonder, Another version of the color walks I take sometimes. When I look for beauty and delight, I find it.

I was reminded of something my friend Ashley said, on a recent day spent foraging mushrooms: each one you find is like a little hit of dopamine. It’s like collecting glimmers, small bits of delight. It always makes me feel better.

I just have a hard time staying cranky in a world where this exists.

And it will all likely be gone next week. The spring party is almost over. Time to gather up all the goodness I can, at least until next year.

There’s more beauty ahead, but for now I’m marveling at how the raindrops fill up the unfurling bud of a peony, something I had never seen before.

The wonder is out there, even—and sometimes especially—in the rain.

I hope you have a good weekend.

—Tara

Something else to enjoy: my books.