A walk in the rain

I am told that we are experiencing a very long drought here in Maine. In August, it seemed that some of the trees were already acquiring their fall colors, but on closer examination, I saw that they were turning brown for lack of water. Now that fall is on the horizon, hope has been kindled for abundant rainfall. There is a certain irony here, because Maine is a “water state.” It has some 6,000 lakes and a number of rivers, not to mention the countless streams that meander through its extensive woodlands. Before the arrival of Europeans, the Native tribes used these waters as highways for their dugout and birchbark canoes. It is said that one can put a canoe in any body of water in Maine and reach any other part of the state without having to portage for more than a mile.Statistics are no antidote for drought. However, I did look at the drought as a guarantee that I would be able to confidently take a long walk without getting rained on. And so, just recently, I set out over the dry grass of my backyard and listened as the blades crunched underfoot. I headed for town under a cloudless sky. Why We Wrote This An unexpected downpour floods the writer with childhood memories and a defiant joy in getting soaked. What a difference a short jaunt can make. On my return trek, the sky began to boil with thunderheads and, moments later, a deluge. My first impulse, of course, was to run, in hopes of making it home before getting soaked. But a cloudburst is a cloudburst, and within a couple of minutes, I slowed down, looked up, and shrugged, realizing that running was futile. I couldn’t get any wetter than I already was.I walked along in the rain at a leisurely pace, and as I did so, a memory percolated to the surface: the intense thunderstorms of my New Jersey childhood. I recall charging out into the downpours with my friends, running with abandon with arms and voices raised. We’d get drenched as we chased one another or organized a game of stickball in defiance of the elements. This, I considered, is a fundamental difference between childhood and adulthood: A grown-up is too careful, too concerned with propriety and comfort, to deliberately walk in the rain, while a kid embraces the thick, pounding drops as a welcome change of pace, another experience to savor.This thought accompanied me as I slogged along, the only person walking in the rain as automobile traffic glided past me. One driver pulled over and asked if I wanted a lift. “No, thank you,” I said. “I’m just walking.” As I passed a house, a charitable woman opened her front door and waved me in. “You’re getting soaked,” she said, stating the obvious, but I declined her well-meaning offer and walked on. Just as I arrived home, the rain ceased and the sun came out. Show over. I stood by the front door, the water draining from my clothing. I was filled with regret, not that I had been caught in the rain, but that I had not thought to walk in the rain earlier. The streets are less crowded, and there is the exhilaration of recollecting a time, many years ago, when such behavior was part and parcel of what it meant to be happy. Ann Hermes/The Christian Science Monitor/File Horse and rider I am not your master but your equal on a day When sun’s broom has swept shadows away From every corner of this sweet-hayed barn And cleaned the cracks in worn wooden walls. You seem glad to see me, glad to get out, For you know where we are going. The orchard first Where apples old as Eden bob in waves of wind That scatters leaves like copper-colored coins. Cornstalks, restless soldiers, rattle in ranks; Sunflowers with bowed heads ponder past glory. We enter a grove where elves might lurk But they have fled from light’s vastness To wait for dark nights and new moons. Sun’s glare again, and our shadow for company. Time to turnabout; we go back a different way Across fields no plow has known for years. A stone wall but delays us; You find a gap and pass through. Almost home, and we go grudgingly, For days are not always so beautiful. Let us prolong our parting like lovers;I shall walk beside you the rest of the way.– Andrew Armstrong