Something Beautiful is a self-imposed initiative to find a visual feast for each day of a year.
With the promise of rain today, I initially despaired of more gloom—then thought back to what I loved about rainy days growing up. The large Victorian farmhouse we lived in had a good sized front porch. Grey painted cement slab built upon cement blocks framed in dark green. In the summer, removable screens came out and were installed with flanged wingnuts covered in chipping paint. Not extraordinary in any way except for the forest green swing hung from hooks screwed in the wainscoating ceiling.
Smell is the sense of memory. A favorite smell was the steam coming off the hot, hot sidewalks during summer storms. There is something primal and soothing about gentle thunder and hard rain that pours straight down. The porch was a cocoon in which we snuggled and observed the dramatic world outside.
I looked for rain and porches today. And, though this porch is not like the one I grew up in, the feeling is similar. About the same width. Surrounded by a natural, imperfect yard. Mist collecting on the periphery. Dark, mysterious, and magical. A beautiful memory.