The poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said it best :

” The day is cold and dark and dreary.

It rains and the wind is never weary.

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust, the dead leaves fall.

The day is dark and dreary. ”

The poets always have the right language—–even about something as mundane as weather.


And speaking of weather, some thoughts,  (mine only, of course) , but perhaps as you agree or disagree with me, you’ll give weather some consideration.  It is, after all, one thing we all have in common.

…..Sunshine : makes most of us happy, unless, we are farming and need the rain or unless we were recently sun-burned or unless we have no air conditioning or unless our new medication says to stay out of the sun or others that some of us never have experienced.

…..Snow : makes some Southerners ecstatic, some Southerners wary, some Southerners concerned, some Southerners frightened, and some Southerners a range of emotions.  We Georgians have to re-think snow because it comes so seldom and, usually, has little impact.  But it does bring excitement……………

…..Storm :  makes us uneasy, thinking high winds, tornadoes, flooding, lightening strikes, frightened pets, emergency personnel, multi-damages to people and/or property.  Even when there’s appreciation for the grand scheme of a terrific storm, there’s a sense of uneasiness and dread.

…..Fog : what can I say ?  Only a poet can find words.

…..Rain : back to the poet and the right words at the right time for this day, December 16th, 2020.  It is cold and dark and dreary and the wind is blowing the leaves and for all things being considered for this scary year ( the isolation, the sadness, the uncertainty ), what more needs to said ?

But I have to admit : rainy days are , far and away, my favorites.  And this is why :  I see water as spiritual. I see water as cleansing.  I see water as life-giving. I see water as comfort.  But on a more pragmatic note, I like the sense of being “tucked in”,  of the comforts of home that I am blessed with, of a good book, of Gracie in my lap, needlepoint canvas in my hand, and Byron in his “cave “——these things give me the sense that all is well.  Rain does that for me.

The day is cold and dark and dreary……………….