Rainy Days

I’ve come to love rainy days. For one thing, the neighborhood is quieter. No leaf blowers, hedge trimmers, lawn edgers to interrupt the sound of singing birds and rustling leaves. There is a smell that I associate with rain. I can sense it coming. The first time I remember that feeling was when I was young growing up in Yonkers, NY. It was summer and I was walking along McLean Avenue (which separated Yonkers from the Bronx) near the city park across the street from my apartment building. It was late afternoon and the sky had become ominously dark, the signs in store windows more pronounced. The fragrance in the air had changed to something fresh, clean, electric. I could sense it at the bridge of my nose. If I could have seen it, it would have been a steely gray. It was right before a thunderstorm which would soon wash the streets and sidewalks clean of the grit and grime of the city’s buses, cars, and trucks.

Today is one of the rainy spring days that rather than coming down in torrents, comes in a steady strong mist, a shower that waters every plant, tree, flower. The birds seem not to be bothered by rain. In fact, they are quite active. I watched a raven be chased by both mockingbird and blue jay. Now that the feeders are clean and fresh nyjer thistle set out, the goldfinches are back in their yellow glory, happily eating. The cardinals prefer the safflower cylinder and will sometimes share the space with house sparrows that live in my neighbor’s hedge; other times they chase the sparrows around and around and around the circular base. Aptly named, the catbird has returned and I look forward to hearing the cry that sounds very much like a cat in great need. In a surprising moment, a red-bellied woodpecker found the cylinder this morning, and later, the more common visitor, the downy (or was it a hairy?) woodpecker.

I am anxious to see what new growth will be displayed tomorrow morning after the rain stops and the sun returns. I wonder if the hummingbirds will stop for a drink at my feeder while on their way north. I wonder if my honeysuckle vine will be tall enough for me to encourage its winding around my deck railings. Let the rain come. Let it feed our souls. Let it bring us thoughts of what tomorrow will bring while we enjoy the quiet hum of the falling drops today.