Last night it hailed so hard that it woke me up. It was so
much, so fast that I thought we were in the middle of a storm. And I have to
admit, I was excited by that thought.
You see, most people outside of England think of it as a
cold and eternally rainy place. Am I right? That was my impression of it before
coming here.
But now that I am here, I can tell you that the rain I
expected almost never comes. I have seen more snow and more hail in England
than I have seen rain. Instead, England seems to just have this sort of
permanent, silent “wetness” that clings to everything. It does rain. But I have
only seen it three times since I have been here.
Back home, this time of year brings about days and days of
storms. Thunderstorms and tornadoes. Most people would cringe at this. It’s not
a heart-warming thought. I have seen terrible damage done by these storms.
But I miss it. I miss the smell of the coming rain on the
air and the calm before the storm. I
miss the pounding of the rain on the roof. I miss the steady claps of thunder
and flashes of light. There is a comfort and an excitement in those things that
I don’t get with English rains. One of my favorite things to do before a
Spring storm was to open up all the doors and windows and let the wind and the
rainy smell flow into the house through the screens. The rain would sound as though it was in the house.
Can’t do that here. There aren’t screens on the doors or
windows. And there hasn’t been any thunderstorms.
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