Tag: Humor

The Joys of Hygge & Fernweh

We have all felt the pull of the universe against the warmth of ourselves. At times, the expectations of the outer world seem to be in sync with our inner worlds, and at other times almost discordant. Like the tree whose branches wildly throw themselves into the air – without shape or form, nor any apparent laws of Physics – skewed right, skewed left, center of gravity tilted.

Wild, and yet ensconced safely behind a fence. 

Could that be the human spirit on some days? The pull of society vs solitude. The pull of adventure vs comfort. The pull of this vs that. Here Vs There. 

Here & There – By Thea Lu

I read this children’s book, Here & There, written by Thea Lu the other day that seemed to encapsulate all these feelings through two different characters who experienced and belonged to this wild Earth in their own contradictory ways bringing home the fact that both our domestic and wild spirits need a home within us. Or maybe that was the interpretation I came up with. Regardless, it addressed a certain yearning for Fernweh – a lure for distant lands – that the holidays seems to awaken in us. A contrast from the cozy comforts of the home and reading by the Christmas tree that the very same holidays beckon one towards.

The book compares and contrasts the lives of Dan and Aki. Dan owns a cafe in a seaside town. He stays there – always welcoming new friends and visitors into his cafe, but firmly rooted in his space. His perspective widening, and mind broadening with every interaction with a stranger. Never once leaving his place of belonging.

Aki, on the other hand, craves travel and adventure. His life is colorful – he meets many people who have become friends during his travels. He has seen volcanoes erupt in the oceans, made friends with migrating whales, and shared a drink with fellow travelers in sea-side cafes. 

It is a beautiful meditation of all the different ways in which we belong. How we can broaden our horizons whether we leave a place or spend all our lives in it. After all, perspective, imagination, empathy are all fantastic human capabilities.

In Praise of Mystery – By Ada Limon, Illustrated by Peter Sis

Another book that I read in the cozy light of the Christmas tree also evoked similar feelings. This book, In Praise of Mystery – by Ada Limon, Illustrated by Peter Sis is a beautiful book about the poem that left Earth in 2024 aboard NASA’s spacecraft, Europa Clipper. Europa is Jupiter’s second moon and is believed to be full of water, similar to our own. So, this probe is meant to investigate the possibility of life on Europa. 

Ada Limon is a poet laureate and it is her poem that is inscribed on Europa Clipper. The book is illustrated by an equally illustrious illustrator. Peter Sis – is a MacArthur Fellow, Hans Christian Anderson prize-winning etc etc.

How it will be read is another question altogether.

This isn’t the first time we have sent our presence out into the universe either. Voyager’s Golden Record contains as many snippets of life as could be managed on the capsule – images, songs, and greetings in 55 languages are on it. Whale song, folk songs from Bulgaria etc.

Hygge Vs Fernweh

The message and book, In Praise of Mystery, speaks to that human yearning to find life outside our own planet. We have been sending probes to see if there is life outside, but here, right here on this beautiful planet, we can spend so much more time appreciating and protecting what we have. Sitting by the twinkling Christmas tree lights, warmed by the hot cocoa that is essential on such occasions, I thought of the world in Europa. It could be thriving or desolate. Cold or warm. The thrill of that extraterrestrial adventure is all very nice, but I was happy to be in my little home by the tree, enjoying the warmths of winter –  Hygge

The human yearning for Hygge & Fernweh can both be there, can’t it?

Do Skunks Eat Ducks?

A few years ago, an aunt asked me, “Don’t you get bored looking at the same trees and park everyday?” She looked genuinely concerned because she had heard my mother-in-law say, yet again,  that I was setting off on my walk. 

They could not imagine why I would take the children on walks, or if they weren’t in the mood, then set off by myself. 

I was genuinely shocked. Not because of the question but because nature is very rarely boring. It is full of adventure and mystery, not to mention humor, and joy. 

Take for instance the morning walk a few days ago for me. 

Hibernation would be a marvelous pursuit

Winters in California can be tricky – cold, foggy, misty, cloudy, cold (did I mention cold already? Well – the cold this week is worth mentioning twice, so I’ll leave it). 

I went reluctantly for a walk. See climatic conditions mentioned above for explanations. When I get up in the morning these days, I fervently wish I was born a bear. Hibernation would be a marvelous pursuit. The self-help channels and articles are all banging on about getting enough sleep, and yet society wants you to be up and about for long hours and at absurdly cold times too. Ridiculous!

That morning I moaned about being awake, and the husband gave me an amused look. I snapped petulantly, “What?! I have to be awake all the time once I get up – till I sleep again!” 

“Isn’t that true for all creatures who aren’t nocturnal?”, he said, and I apparently replied in gibberish. Semantics. The point is, I did not want to get up. I do not want to get up. I do not want to start my day in the cold. But I do – everyday the alarm seems to go off earlier and earlier. It could not have been the whole night gone, could it?! I just got warm and comfortable. The comforter took that long to trap body heat, the heater did not turn on, the frozen nose took awfully long to thaw. 

But human-beings are resilient if nothing else. So, I dragged myself out into the cold. On my morning walk, the fog was still lifting, and the cold made me look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. Even the birds seemed to be quieter. No chirping, no loud squawking. 

Down in the riverbed, that I stopped to take a quick stroll before starting the day, life was slow too. I saw a great white egret with her little chick, some geese, some ducks, and a grey heron. All lethargic enough to match the atmosphere around them. 

What is that – a rat, mole, otter, weasel?

That’s when I saw the sleek quick movement of the water mole. The water must have been biting cold. The frost on nearby rooftops could confirm that much at least. Yet, the water rat or mole or weasel or otter (I honestly do not know) was sleek and fast. 

I was fascinated. I started walking to keep pace with it, and looked on amused as it kept away from the waiting blue heron. Smart.

That’s when I saw a duck family nearby. The duckling must’ve hatched late. For it was the only one its size in vicinity. The water rat was gaining on it, and I held my breath.  That’s when I caught the white streaks on its tail. Ahh – it must be a skunk. 

Do Skunks Eat Ducks?

Would I be witness to a tragedy that early in the morning? A creature’s got to eat, sure. But can’t it be less gruesome than watching a little duckling being pulled under water? 

I willed the duckling to fly away, but it seemed oblivious. After what seemed like an eternity it sprang to life and ran away from the skunk. Slapping its webbed feet rapidly on the water like a basilisk – those creatures the children were fascinated with in elementary school. 

I released a huge breath of air – I hadn’t realized I had held my breath in for that long. 

Who says there is no adventure and mystery in nature? 

There’s plenty of it. I will have to tell the aunt all about it. 

The water-skunk went on its way, the sun slowly started to peek its way through the misty morning, and I jogged my spirits up to get back home and start a day of work.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.

-Rachel Carson

The Magic Faraway Tree

I loved the Inside Out 2 movie – the one in which the newly minted teenager has a new range of emotions available to her, and the old ones either have a tough time acknowledging them or making space for them. In the movie, Nostalgia comes knocking the door too, and the other emotions all tell her that she’s got time. Nostalgia is for when you get older. 

Well, guess I have gotten older. December has become the time for nostalgia.

While younger, the Decembers seemed far and few between. But as I grew older, I noticed a familiar lament in my December posts – “Where did the year go?” Did it really go all that quickly? Every year, I asked the same – only I seem to be asking it more frequently. It is all very confusing. 

A time for nostalgia:

When I was around knee high, it was the time I waited to clamber up the Magic Faraway tree in my imagination. Winter vacations meant lots of winds, and rains thanks to the North East Monsoons in Nilgiris. This was the perfect excuse to imagine going to visit strange worlds everyday over the clouds, and far away. I am really excited to see that the movie about The Magic Faraway Tree is finally coming in Mar 2026. 

The Magic Faraway Tree | Official Teaser Trailer | Claire Foy, Andrew Garfield

I would love to see what they do with a generation of adults who all were enthralled with the stories, and are now trying to convince their children to try it out. But those of us who grew up loving the stories of Moonface, Silky, Saucepan Man and the many lands above the tree can relate to the term ‘life-changing’ being used for this series. I confess that when I gaze up redwood trees and tall giants,  I wonder about the lands above the clouds.

A time for resolutions:

We live in an era of social media. I don’t think there is any escaping that. I don’t know where we go from here. But what we thought of as spheres of influence etc are fluid, and not at all easy to understand. 

So, I thought about grand resolutions like ‘No social media’ etc, but I wanted to do something that wasn’t the equivalent of sticking my head in the sand and hoping the storm would blow away. 

It occurred to me while watching the trailer for The Magic Faraway Tree movie. It is a bold move to try to capture the magic of what a generation of adults felt as children in movie-form. After all, it was our generation that was enthralled with Enid Blyton’s Magic Faraway Tree. I know I have had to convince my children to read the books, because they had Harry Potter growing up. 

How easy is it to judge or critique someone? So instead this year, I am going to try and appreciate all that goes into making bold moves. The adults who grew up loving The Magic Faraway Tree will be the bulk of the movie-goers. Many of these adults would have navigated life for a few decades now – some world weary waiting to see if the world still can bring that touch of magic to them, some cynical to the point of wondering whether there is anything good left in this world, some still hopeful and loving – nurturing the soft wondrous parts of life in them. The movie has to kindle magic in all of them. That is a bold move.

What are you nostalgic about and what are your resolutions for the New Year?

Social Media Cringe Scales

Going… Going …

“What do you think I should put up today?” the son asked us one evening. The daughter was home for the Thanksgiving break too, and we were making more noise than was necessary while snacking and exchanging the news of the day. 

“How about this? Going …. Going …. “ I held up my phone, showing him some of my pictures of fall colors on the phone. When had he become this much taller than me? The beautiful fall colors glistened and sparkled, and I could feel my nerves dancing with the rays of the sun shining through them. 

“Amma! That’s – there’s no need to be all poetic and cringe.”

“What’s cringe about that? The fall colors are going…going… but not yet gone. Huh?! Get it? Not yet gone!” 

Scales of Cringe

He rolled his eyes. I swear his eyes roll more when his sister is around. I have statistical evidence. 

There are categories of social media posts apparently. They fall in scales of cringe, try-hards, to meh. One child who wished her father a happy birthday was in the try-hard category. I found that unfair. “Come on! So sweet of the child to wish her father. You know? That reminds me – where’s my post wishing me on my birthday huh?”

The pair of them exchanged looks that suggested I’d lost it, and giggled some more.

“So what if you have a few posts on the scale of 6-7?” I said, looking as smug as it was possible for me to look, while attempting the cool, nonchalant look.

“On my goodness! Did you just? I can’t – okay! That’s going to be my post. My mom just made a 6-7 joke!” he said clutching his stomach and laughing. 

My Mom!

I narrowed my eyes at the fellow. “There’s no need to say ‘my mom!’ in that tone of voice.”

He laughed some more, and the daughter ruffled his hair, looking proud.

“I am not sure I appreciate this your-mom thing being used as an insult.”

“I know your mom wouldn’t either!” the daughter said, cackling some more, and joining in.

I huffed and I puffed and drew myself to new heights. 

The daughter patted me patronizingly on the head, and said, “Now now Mother! There is no need to be all small and mighty!” 

I gave up. Newly minted high-schoolers and newly minted adults having ice creams with chocolate chips and melted brownies crushed up in them, cannot be expected to be sane. My mom would agree. 

Humor is Serious

I was hoping to read a feel-good book, a laugh out loud funny book. An author like P.G.Wodehouse.

Read: P G Wodehouse on nourishncherish

That’s when it occurred to me that the comedy writers have all moved to other venues.

Screenwriting

The writing in sitcoms is excellent. No chance for a joke is lost. The jokes themselves are honed, and planned, every episode polished with alpha groups/ beta groups, and by the time we get to watch them on our little televisions at home, the humor is top-notch. Starting with Seinfeld I suppose (personally, my humor sitcom experience started with Friends), Everybody Loves Raymond, Big Bang Theory, Modern Family, Young Sheldon, and our personal favorite, Corner Gas.

I love it. I love the way a joke lands. I love the way the story’s narrative is held behind the scenes with out-loud laughs and merry chuckles along the way.

Standup Comedy 

The snap humor in the standup comedy is there in reels, hour long stand up shows – it is everywhere. Talent is bursting at the seams, and it is all available for us to laugh. Instantly. The variety and availability of humor from comedians who are able to weave social messages with humor is truly astounding. Trevor Noah, Alex in Wonderland, Aiyyo Shraddha. Who are your personal favorites?

Book Series 

But for a bibliophile who is looking for an equally funny book experience, it simply isn’t there anymore.

P G Wodehouse is credited with coming up with the first versions of sitcoms. P G Wodehouse himself acknowledged that many times he had wondered whether he should move towards who-dunnits instead. He was a big fan of Agatha Christie, and the money was really in the Mystery section of the bookstore – even then. But I am so grateful he stuck to humor. #ThanksgivingGratitude

Humor is one of the hardest things to write. So, I am glad to see the humorists moving to arenas where they can really be paid for the most difficult things. But the book world is really lacking a P G Wodehouse of modern times. Nobody has the time for a book anymore. Humor writing takes a long time, and is really quite difficult. Humor is a very serious business.

So, I understand why the humor writers have moved from books, but I miss it.

I miss books like those written by R K Narayan, Gerald Durrell, Miss Read. There are a few that still cater to simple pleasures and joys in living like Alexander McCall Smith.

If you recommend any really funny authors, please let me know. Comedy of Errors, Comedy of Manners, Comedy of Society, Farce, Satire- but in book form please.

Novembers Blues and Joys

Describing a Blue Sky

It’s hard to not fall in love with rain-washed November mornings in California. I remember once as a child being asked to describe a sky of indescribable beauty and getting frustrated. The sky was blue. But it was a blue that was not just a color, it made you feel happy! What was the color of that blue?

I felt that way this morning too.

The blue made me feel the opposite of blue. No one who has experienced this blue would attribute sadness to ‘feeling blue’. So what gives? When language is not enough, maybe the fluttering of the golden thrush is enough. For that’s how it feels – to swoop and dance through the air.

The leaves are beautiful, star-shaped, hues of green, yellow, orange, red and maroon with little sunbursts through their leaves sparkling and shining to uplift your day. Peering through that riot of color to the blue sky – how does one describe that?

Prized Priceless

That’s when I noticed the helicopter flying low, and I peered up at it, and feeling like a toddler asked to point at the helicopter in the sky, waved at it. Of course, it was at that very moment that our empty suburban streets produced neighbors walking on the streets. I smiled sheepishly at them, and said, “A day that makes you want to wave at helicopters isn’t it?”

They exchanged a swift, almost imperceptible look of concern, and then being the kind folks they are, arranged their features to polite interest, and said, “I think there is a police chase going on. We saw several police cars earlier today.”

Oh.

If people ask me at the beginning of the day how I plan to make a prized fool of myself, I am not sure I could tell you. These things are not planned. There is an innate talent to these things.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I goggled a bit at them, and felt my cheeks brightening to match the color of the maroon leaves through which the sunbursts looked splendid.

“So! Have you seen what they are planning to do for the park?”

Adulting in November

I recovered and walked home, though, the nincompoop before this little social chat might’ve skipped home. Really! Sometimes being an adult can be very restrictive. I thought of Anne of Green Gables – I felt for this girl so much just then.

“Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it… yet.”

― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Just before I closed the door though, a beautiful butterfly and am engaging hummingbird seemed to understand what I was feeling as they flitted around the flower patch, and the trees nearby.

I watched them go, and then grateful that I got to step out at all, headed inside.

Feeling blue? Take a walk and wave at passing helicopters will you? The November world around us works like a charm.

Hail Mary & The Martian: Potato Love

As part of our book club, we decided to take up interplanetary themed works by Andy Weir. Hail Mary releases next year in March, and it seemed like a really cool idea to get a little astrophage love beforehand. 

So, we started off with Martian, watched the movie, then moved on to read Hail Mary. 

This led to many interesting outcomes. The first was more primal in nature. 

🥔The scenes where the protagonist, Mark Watney set up and farmed potatoes on Mars, appealed to all of us. Far fetched, but so is almost everything humanity has achieved up to this point isn’t it? Who doesn’t love to see a little potato pant sprout in a red and dusty planet?

We developed a new appreciation for potatoes and all the ways in which we make it. Poori sagu, potato fry, kaara curry, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, dum aloo, french fries, potato chips, hash browns, cream of potato soup. 

Every time I pick up a potato these days, I gaze at it with awe. The other day, I watched a little sprout from one of it’s eyes, and the son gave me an eyeroll. 

“If potatoes could save medieval Europe from starvation, they could do anything, couldn’t they?”

“Yes – I love this new honey roasted szechuan style potato that you made for me the other day, so I can’t really complain about this new potato love can I?” said the wise fellow, and I laughed. Honey roasted s.style potatoes it is.

🧑‍🚀One of the many things that occurred to me as I was reading the Martian book was to see which of my friends were best suited for the different roles in the book. Who would be best suited for Mark Watney (not as a replacement for Matt Daemon of course!), but from an engineering and problem solving perspective. I am an engineer, and am surrounded by engineer friends after all. Who would be the best Dr Venkat Kapoor driving things from the NASA side? Who would be the scientist diplomat who works with the Chinese team? Fascinating exercise. 

👭One of the many things I liked about the book is how Andy Weir goes out of his way to show the bond between the astronauts on the Martian crew. Selecting a top notch team is a hard enough task without having to consider the effect they would each have on the other in a closed space for extended periods of time. What psychological tests must they have to figure out friendship, respect, and trust among the crew after/before all the obvious things related to technical competency are taken care of? 

💫Let me play a song I said the day after we watched the Martian movie. The son groaned. “No – I want something fun – not melodious today.’ he said. 

“I think you’ll like this one!’ I said with a confidence that stems from knowing the pull of the cosmos on the son’s psyche. 

”There’s a starman waiting in the skies.” David Bowie’s song filled the car and the pair of us bobbed to it startling folks in neighboring cars at rush-time.  

I already like the song by Harry Styles in the Hail Mary trailer. It’s one we listen to often. “Stop your crying it’s a sign of the times”

The movie, Hail Mary, is slated for release in Mar 2026, and we are looking forward among other things to see how the Eridian, Rocky will be visualised. Any of you looking forward to the movie?

Also, what did you think of the Martian book and movie?

Napolean in my Kitchen

Napoleon is in my kitchen making noodles before starting on his evening conquests. As far as conquests go, this one seems to make the emperor happier than a few hectares of land in medieval France. 

There is a knock on the door, and I head outside.

A unicorn is needling the scary pumpkin outside while her super-hero brother stands petrified at the sound it makes periodically. So, I gingerly step past the moaning pumpkin and offer him candy. He beams in relief and gives me a look that says one day his superhero journey may save folks from moaning pumpkins – just not today. He takes one piece of candy politely, then looks seriously at the bowl. He considers the one in his hand, and switches it out to another one before shyly saying ‘Thank you!’ 

 I wait for the fairies and princesses to come, my heart giving a little bump of joy every time the doorbell rings. One evil sorceress said that she was looking forward to ringing the doorbell when I opened the door before she did. I heard the pattering of steps and the squealing of voices long before her little group got to the door. So, I told her she could still ring the bell, and she smiled – vanishing all traces of an evil sorceress from her visage.

It is Elementary, Dear Watson

Halloween is here, and I found myself feeling a little wistful. The morning had been a reminder of all the wonderful years celebrating Halloween with the children. I drive by an elementary school, and Halloween mornings in an elementary school remind you that life’s best moments are in the silly and the spurious.

A duck and dinosaur, (a tyrannosaurus rex, the brain supplies from the recess of time)  the same size are best friends chattering and crossing the road with a Duck Xing crossing. The lack of a T-rex Xing sign doesn’t seem to offend the dinosaur in the least, and good-naturedly the pair of them make it across the street.

The parents are all parked, scrolling on their phones, while waiting to see their children in the Halloween parade before heading out to work. One poor lady was on her laptop – reminding me of an irascible boss I once had. I remember this boss as the vampire sucking joy out on Halloween. Maybe this lady’s boss isn’t a vampire – but I don’t think so. Her pinched expression show how dearly she would like to close the laptop and take in the Halloween parade wholeheartedly, but cannot. Those of us with children have all tried juggling seemingly ridiculous things like this, but somehow I am still glad we did. All those years of elementary school parades seem to have swished past so swiftly. 

Napoleanean Conquests

Back in the evening, I saw the unicorn fairy leave, and felt a pang. Halloween isn’t the time for time-travel, but everyday can be a capsule for time travel if you let Google photos have its say. I sat and watched photos from 10 years ago, 7 years ago, 5 years ago etc.

Later that night, Napolean showed me his candy stash and said with a politeness that stems from an excess of candy, “Please don’t throw these away! I will eat them – slowly a little everyday. Today’s haul was good.”

I thought the emperor would be buzzing on a sugar high, but apparently when you walk around the neighborhood for hours while eating candy it is good for the sugar. Huh! A few minutes later, I found his room lights on, and he was sleeping soundly, candy by his bedside, a book on his pillow, and a contented look on his face that said, ‘Today’s conquests complete!’

I smiled. Hope everybody had a good Halloween!

Bring in the Horses!

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words.”

Ursula K. Le Guin

What will we fill our heads with?

This is an oft remembered quote for me. Every time I see patterns of behavior that I hope will be changed for humanity’s arc, I think of this. Sometimes, in order for things to change, it has to reach levels of intolerable.

Maybe that is where the attention industry will reach, and it this feeling of overwhelm that will herald in a new system of reward.

We had our hands full with survival in humanity’s infancy,  
   we filled our heads with myths and legends of heroism, superhuman strength, superhuman abilities.

We evolved and figured out ways of relatively sustainable food sources, 
   we filled our heads with epics, art, and music.

We figured out mass production,
   we  filled our heads with science fiction and fantasy seeking out other planets, other environments.

We figured out how to amass our thoughts and search/retrieve with ease, 
   we filled our heads with social media.

We are figuring out meta-cognition,
   what will we fill our heads with then?

Some days it isn’t the woodpecker who brings on the musing. It is the memory of a gas station.

The gas-station quandary

I had stopped the other day at a gas station (for gas – the clarification is necessary. These days we can stop at gas stations for milk, chips, entertainment and so much more) . Now, I don’t know about you, but I usually like to see the steady increase in the gas the tank is taking in. 12.00, 12.11, 12.12, 12.13, 12.14, 12.14, 12.15, 12.16.

A smile on my face when I see our car gulp in the gas like it’s a thirsty horse after a long run. The silly comparison makes me cringe a little, yes, but then I had seen a few horses trot in their pasture once just before stopping to fill gas, and often when the mind wanders at a gas station, I think of these chestnut beauties throwing their manes back and feeling the breeze.

But the other day, my attention was pulled towards a screen perched over the meter showing me advertisements on what they think should occupy my attention for the three minutes I was there. Combined with all the flashing billboards, and the moving screens, and the flashing games mobile phones are full off, I felt off-kilter. 

How did we get here? 

When did attention become such an important commodity that we sacrifice almost everything at its altar? Peace, quiet, steady study, calm, concerted effort – everything giving way to drama, loudness, frenzied movement, and quick reward systems. 

What can be done so that the opposite is rewarded again? For it is clear we are driven by reward. 

Can there be a small quiet reward to our brain when we quieten a loud intrusive distraction? 

Bring in the horses

I smiled at that. “Monkey brain!”, I chided myself. Though I have to admit, I am not sure what the attention span of monkeys are. I hope monkey mothers are not yelling at their children as we speak – “Human-brain! Distracted all the time. Swing. Leap. Onward and forward!”

I forced myself to bring in the mental image of the horses I had seen all those years ago before getting to a gas station, and they came. Reluctantly at first. CNN was asking me to get affronted about something, and thoughts of monkeys and horses could not pull me away easily. But they finally did. They cantered into the mind’s eye, like William Wordsworth swaying daffodils, and the brain quietened down. The green pastures the horses trotted in bursting with flowers, and I felt a calm. By the time I pulled out of the gas station, I had needed help from a menagerie to pluck my attention.

What would it take to become focused on something so beautiful and deep, that nothing matters?

How many of you are flibberty-gibbets? What would the social order be to reward that and what would be incentive enough to disrupt our current trend?

Anticipation, Joy and a Surprise!

Is it raining yet?

I could barely sit still. Excited. Like a puppy waiting for a run around the park. Every few minutes, I found myself peeking out at the skies, and wondering whether the predictions were true. You see? We had been promised rain. The skies however did not seem to realize that our weather apps had predicted a 95% chance of rain. I genuinely do not know how they do this, but many times if it is a 30% chance of rain, the clouds may bother rolling in to salute the weather gods, but don’t want to go through the trouble of pulling on their grey robes, and just flit away.

This time they did not even bother rolling in. 95% chance of rain. It has to come – dance, spring, skip to the window. Nothing yet.
Sunny skies. D,s,s. Nothing.
A little breeze. Nothing.

When people tell you to keep your child-like outlook in life, I don’t think they realize how much disappointment goes with that. “We’ll go for a walk!”
When?

“Ice-cream?”
“Later. Once I’m done with work.”
“Done? Still? Not yet?”

It really requires enormous amounts of resilience. I salute you children – I really do. So, I peered out, sipped tea, and peered out some more. Nothing. So, I decided that the best thing to do was to be apathetic. Act like I didn’t care. Because I don’t. I mean, if it rains, I am sure, I’ll come to know.

Just as I thought the meteorologists really had messed it up this time, the rains started. I didn’t notice the dramatic shifting of the skies. The thunderous clouds rolling in. Like an efficient theatrical crew, the whole thing happened in minutes.

Then, the show started. 

Oh! Was it good? It was amazing! I sat on my patio dancing away from the lashing rains, enjoying the sound of the water pouring down – beating against the broad leafed plants, and dripping down the pine needles. I watched the roses get drenched – rose petals with fat water droplets on them have to be one of my favorite things.

The son was equally thrilled to go to school that day. The biggest highlight was that his cross country runs would not be cancelled for something as trivial as rain, and he wanted to run in the pouring rain. I tried to make noises a responsible mother ought to make, but found myself excited for him. How can one not be excited about running in the rain with your friends?

I set off for a walk with an umbrella in hand, listening to the soothing sounds of the pouring rain, and getting a thorough drenching from all sides except the top where the umbrella tried its best. A friend of mine stopped her car to chide me, but refrained because I looked ‘far too happy to be scolded‘.

Plop! Plop! Plop! Surprise!

Later that evening, the son and I had both dried off and looked very pleased with ourselves with our little rainy day adventures. That was when I noticed. The roof in our house. The same one that leaked and had been repaired last year (but was never quite stress tested afterward) was not fixed. The pouring rains meant we had a puddle on the floor, and I found a little of my soaring spirit subsided somewhat.

But so what?

The first real rains of the season were well worth it! The sunset the day after was even better. So there! Happy rainy season fellow beings. May the Earth make a pluviophile of us all!