Preparing

Weathering Summer Storms

August 13, 2018


It starts with a grumble in the east. You quickly glance up at the sky—what’s the cloud situation? Is there lightning? The Spanish moss hangs limp from the oak trees and there’s not a whisper of breeze.

It’s still sunny where you are, but puffy clouds edged with gray appear, racing across the sky. A summer storm approaches.

Quickly the blue sky turns gray, the air temperature drops, the rumbling surrounds you. Sometimes the light takes on an eerie green tinge.

The house shakes the next time the thunder booms, and you begin to see lightning flashes. In moments, the rain begins to spatter the ground, speckling the pavement. The rain whispers or rustles or thuds, depending on how hard it’s coming down. If you’re lucky, you’re inside, cozily watching. If you’re unlucky enough to be out and about, you’re probably drenched despite your umbrella. You might take off your sandals so they don’t get ruined, and run through the parking lot to get to your car. (Or is that just me?)

After a few moments—or an hour—the sun may shine through the rain. This is what’s known as a sun shower. Or a rainbow will appear. Your gift for weathering another summer storm.

Sometimes we can see the storm coming from a long way away and we can prepare at least somewhat, as my family and I did last summer when Hurricane Irma was bearing down on us. Sometimes a storm appears seemingly out of nowhere and we’re forced to take cover until the worst is over. Afterwards, we pick up the pieces.

What’s true of the weather is also true of our lives. Sometimes we see the storm coming, other times it takes us by surprise and all we can do is hold on. If you’re in the midst of a storm, know that it will end, and that you may very well find a world made new on the other side. If you’re watching a storm on the horizon, what can you do to prepare for it? And if you’re currently enjoying a stretch of beautiful weather, savor every moment of it, knowing that soon enough, the storms will come.

What storms have you weathered lately?


Music

Speaking of Downpours...

August 03, 2015



It’s been raining here for what feels like forever, but is really only about two weeks. But still. This is the Sunshine State, not the I-Haven’t-Seen-the-Sun-in-Days State. Everything is wet. Fortunately, we have no flooding in my neighborhood, but there are streets closed in Tampa and elsewhere because of the rising water. All I want to do is curl up under a blanket and read or watch a movie (and snack)—I have to force myself to get my work done. I miss the sunshine, and the energy I get from it.

And to make things worse, my iTunes shuffle has been playing rain-related songs this morning! It started with Neil Sedaka’s “Laughter in the Rain,” and moved on to Sara Bareilles’ “Let the Rain.” So out of curiosity I checked my song list to see what other songs I had that were related to rain. I came up with “It’s Raining Men,” by The Weather Girls, “Here Comes the Rain” (The Mavericks), “Here Comes the Rain Again” (Eurythmics), and “Africa”—as in “I miss the rains down in…” (Toto). On a brighter note, I also have “Here Comes the Sun”  (The Beatles), and “Chasing the Sun,” (Sara Bareilles again). Should I make a playlist?

If I wanted to, I could download and add the following rainy songs:

“Singin’ in the Rain,” Gene Kelly
“Rainy Days and Mondays,” The Carpenters
“Who’ll Stop the Rain,” and “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” Creedence Clearwater Revival
“Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” B.J. Thomas
“It’s Raining Again,” Supertramp
“Fire and Rain,” James Taylor
“Bring on the Rain,” JoDee Messina and Tim McGraw

But I don’t think I will. I’ve had about enough of the rain, and I want to keep music the simple pleasure that it is.

I hope your Monday is sunnier than mine.

What’s your favorite rainy day song?

Juliana Gray

Summer Downpour

July 29, 2015

Photo courtesy Gabriel Santiago

 Introduction by Ted Kooser: I’ve talked a lot in this column about poetry as celebration, about the way in which a poem can make an ordinary experience seem quite special. Here’s the celebration of a moment on a campus somewhere, anywhere. The poet is Juliana Gray, who lives in New York. I especially like the little comic surprise with which it closes.
Summer Downpour on Campus

When clouds turn heavy, rich
and mottled as an oyster bed,

when the temperature drops so fast
that fog conjures itself inside the cars,
as if the parking lots were filled
with row upon row of lovers,

when my umbrella veils my face
and threatens to reverse itself
at every gust of wind, and rain
lashes my legs and the hem of my skirt,

but I am walking to meet a man
who’ll buy me coffee and kiss my fingers—

what can be more beautiful, then,
than these boys sprinting through the storm,
laughing, shouldering the rain aside,
running to their dorms, perhaps to class,
carrying, like torches, their useless shoes?

Reprinted from “The Louisville Review,” (No. 59, Spring 2006) by permission of the author. Copyright © 2006 by Juliana Gray, whose most recent book of poetry is “The Man Under My Skin,” River City Publishing, 2005. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Horses

Wink

December 03, 2014

Photo courtesy jhusemannde

Introduction by Ted Kooser: I love poems with sudden surprises, and here’s one by Jennifer Gray, a Nebraskan. Will you ever see depressions puddled with rain without thinking of the image at her conclusion?

Horses

The neighbor’s horses idle
under the roof
of their three-sided shelter,
looking out at the rain.

Sometimes
one or another
will fade into the shadows
in the corner, maybe
to eat, or drink.

Still, the others stand,
blowing out their warm
breaths. Rain rattles
on the metal roof.

Their hoof prints
in the corral
open gray eyes to the sky,
and wink each time
another drop falls in.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2013 by Jennifer Gray. Reprinted by permission of Jennifer Gray. Introduction copyright © 2014 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Florida

Soggy, Not Sunny Florida

June 25, 2012

For the past three days we’ve been getting rain, rain, rain from Tropical Storm Debby. Our windows have looked like this (or worse):



Our pool looks like this:

The water is almost overflowing!

We’ve been lucky so far, though. We haven’t had any high winds, tornadoes or power outages, unlike other areas. According to the latest storm track, Debby might make landfall near Florida’s panhandle, blanketing nearly the whole state with more rain.

I’ve put aside the errands I planned to do today, in favor of sticking close to home, staying dry, and charging all our battery-operated electronics. (I remember what happened last time our power went out.) I’m keeping our AC running cooler than normal today. In case the power does go out, we won’t get hot and sticky quite as soon. I’ve also located the flashlights, and the batteries for the lamps and fans.


Welcome to summer/hurricane season.

No, this isn’t how I planned to spend today, but that’s OK. There are always more than enough things wanting my attention here. Monday usually sets the tone for my week, and I want to make good use of it, even though the gray and rainy skies make me want to go back to bed!

How will you spend today?

The orchids enjoy the rain.

Epiphanies

After the Rain

March 02, 2010


I woke up to the delicious, patter-y sound of rain this morning—half an hour before my alarm was set to go off. Instead of feeling cheated of that last half hour of sleep, I curled up under my warm covers and listened to the sounds of raindrops falling on our roof and shrubs, and the distant booming of thunder. I imagined my tomato plants, purchased yesterday, drinking up the rainwater, and the purple and orange violas that were an impulse buy, lifting their tiny faces to the drops. I wished that my orchids were out in the rain, but they’ve been hanging out inside recently because of the cold (pampered creatures). I imagined our frost-bitten grass and all the recently-pruned landscape plants thirstily drinking in the rain. Rainwater seems like it would be so much tastier to plants than our city water is—I can’t drink the water from the tap without filtering it first!


Now the rain has stopped, but the wind has picked up. Our oak trees’ beards of Spanish moss flutter in the breeze. Pollen counts have been really high recently, driving the allergic among us (including our dog) into fits, and the rain has washed the yellow pollen off driveways and mailboxes.


The air is bright and clean today—and I feel the same. Yesterday was a difficult day. But instead of flying off the handle emotionally, I allowed myself to feel my emotions without stifling them, to realize that the issues in question were not necessarily my issues, and that I didn’t have to take on the burdens other people were bearing. I have my own burdens, of course, but they’re wearing lightly on me at the moment. It’s OK for me to enjoy my life, to find fulfillment and satisfaction in my work and play. I can let the rain and storm go on around me while I stay cozy beneath my covers. After the rain, the natural world emerges renewed—and so can I.