I love listening to the rain on my window. I love the soft tap tap tap of rain drops as they fall to earth. Of course, I don't like the frizz mess my hair is, or the muddy ground, but those are small complaints when compaired with the beauty of earth-refreshing rain.
Often I think of England when I look outside my window onto rain-drenched scenery. The people in England probably don't enjoy it that much, but I would love to be in England when it rains. (I'd love to be in England even when it isn't raining.)
I think of all the rain that inspired great poets to write. Here is a part of a poem by Emily Dickinson:
"The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves
Her unintending Eyes,
Took her own Heart, including ours,
By innocent Surprise."
The same emotion that fills me with such longing when it rains once inspired their written work.
There is something gloomy about the endless haze and fog that often accompanies rain. Sometimes the rain makes us sad. We feel weary and dreary and anxious to be home, curled up in warm blankets. But I also love the rain for that very reason. I find myself thinking about life more when it rains. I spend time with my family, or reading, or relaxing when rain falls. It is one of my favorite things.
I like rainy days, too. The day seems cozy especially if, like you said, you can curl up in a blanket. But, even on days when I have to be out in it, I feel cozy. I am always thankful that I have a warm, dry place to be. I can't imagine not being able to get out of it.
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