Just singing and dancing in the rain. What's not to love about splashing bare feet in puddles whilst raining.
I was hanging on every word because you have a way of telling a story that draws a reader in.
As kids we accepted the weather for what it was. We reveled in it. Appreciated it and enjoyed it. It wasn't all that complicated.
I love and appreciate your mastery of the English language, good writers still know what a thesaurus is and often will use one writing. A beautiful descriptive essay that can make a reader actually feel as if they are there.
Keep using these big delicious words in your writing's Robes and, Niki~ will have to slap the "idiot" off of Niki~ so they know the definition of all.(Are they joking with Robes) 🤣
I always loved the way you knew it had snowed or or was snowing and there was probably not going to be school that day. It would be four in the morning and you would wake up to the bedroom being illuminated through the curtains or blinds because of the reflection from the snow was so bright.
It's a shame how the adults complicate the weather. Why are they trying to ruin it for us? Oh wait a minute, we became the adults.
Niki, I love that image, singing and dancing in the rain with bare feet in puddles. That’s the whole piece in one sentence.
You’re right, as kids it wasn’t complicated. We didn’t analyze the weather, we entered it. Rain was not an inconvenience, it was permission.
And thank you for your generous words about the writing. I don’t reach for a thesaurus to sound grand; I reach for it when I’m trying to find the word that feels true. Sometimes the first word is close, but not quite alive. I’m grateful it resonates when it lands.
There’s something sacred in that uncomplicated joy, isn’t there? Splashing, laughing, soaked and unconcerned. Maybe that’s what we’re really remembering.
In reading this piece, I lived again in the excitement of snow days, the trembling of thunder above the house, the tedium of rainy days. And then, how I changed to no longer live in the weather but relied on systems to forecast, to control, to see weather as Other. No, we can’t go back to childhood, but we can see now how much the weather was always teaching us. Thanks for this reminder!
That shift you describe, from living inside the weather to managing it from a distance, is exactly what I was trying to put words to. Not a rejection of forecasts or safety, just a remembering of what it felt like before everything needed a plan.
I love how you said the weather was always teaching us. I think it was our first lesson in impermanence, long before we had that word for it. Snow never stayed. Storms always moved on. Rain didn’t ask permission. We adapted without calling it resilience.
We can’t go back, you’re right. But we can stand outside a little longer. Listen before we check the app. Let the sky be something other than a problem to solve.
Thank you for reading it the way you did. That’s the kind of attention that keeps the sky close.
You're welcome Robes.
You are a masterful word weaver and storyteller.
Just singing and dancing in the rain. What's not to love about splashing bare feet in puddles whilst raining.
I was hanging on every word because you have a way of telling a story that draws a reader in.
As kids we accepted the weather for what it was. We reveled in it. Appreciated it and enjoyed it. It wasn't all that complicated.
I love and appreciate your mastery of the English language, good writers still know what a thesaurus is and often will use one writing. A beautiful descriptive essay that can make a reader actually feel as if they are there.
Keep using these big delicious words in your writing's Robes and, Niki~ will have to slap the "idiot" off of Niki~ so they know the definition of all.(Are they joking with Robes) 🤣
I always loved the way you knew it had snowed or or was snowing and there was probably not going to be school that day. It would be four in the morning and you would wake up to the bedroom being illuminated through the curtains or blinds because of the reflection from the snow was so bright.
It's a shame how the adults complicate the weather. Why are they trying to ruin it for us? Oh wait a minute, we became the adults.
Spoiler alert!
✌️🫶🙏
Niki, I love that image, singing and dancing in the rain with bare feet in puddles. That’s the whole piece in one sentence.
You’re right, as kids it wasn’t complicated. We didn’t analyze the weather, we entered it. Rain was not an inconvenience, it was permission.
And thank you for your generous words about the writing. I don’t reach for a thesaurus to sound grand; I reach for it when I’m trying to find the word that feels true. Sometimes the first word is close, but not quite alive. I’m grateful it resonates when it lands.
There’s something sacred in that uncomplicated joy, isn’t there? Splashing, laughing, soaked and unconcerned. Maybe that’s what we’re really remembering.
Thank you for reading it the way you did.
Stay entangled, my friend.
—Robes
In reading this piece, I lived again in the excitement of snow days, the trembling of thunder above the house, the tedium of rainy days. And then, how I changed to no longer live in the weather but relied on systems to forecast, to control, to see weather as Other. No, we can’t go back to childhood, but we can see now how much the weather was always teaching us. Thanks for this reminder!
Barbara, this means a lot to me.
That shift you describe, from living inside the weather to managing it from a distance, is exactly what I was trying to put words to. Not a rejection of forecasts or safety, just a remembering of what it felt like before everything needed a plan.
I love how you said the weather was always teaching us. I think it was our first lesson in impermanence, long before we had that word for it. Snow never stayed. Storms always moved on. Rain didn’t ask permission. We adapted without calling it resilience.
We can’t go back, you’re right. But we can stand outside a little longer. Listen before we check the app. Let the sky be something other than a problem to solve.
Thank you for reading it the way you did. That’s the kind of attention that keeps the sky close.
Stay entangled, my friend.
—Robes