So many songs have been written for the love of rain. Raindrops keep falling on my head, Rainy days and Mondays, It's raining men. Well okay fair enough about the last one on that list, but heavens praised, the deluge is upon us at long last. It began last night with a sudden opening of the heavens. The downpour splashing large 'v's on the lane, lasted only fifteen minutes that time but freshened an afternoon air that had been unusually humid and uncomfortable. Melbourne is not as accustomed to the humidity as the girl from Auckland so there were many bitter complaints about what I considered to be quite mild. Still, when the sky released its first brief purge of wet, it was welcomed by all. Welcomed by not exactly enjoyed. Out came the umbrellas, mad dashes to doorways, sheltering under eaves and verandahs. It has been so long coming, predicted day after hopeful day, that a collective sigh of relief could be heard breaking the routine bustle of the city but nevertheless they accepted this strange new sensation as inevitable. The rain would happen everyone had to believe to survive, so when it did, it came as no surprise. What has happened to our appreciation of the wonders of the planet that we do not savour the prayed for blessing when it arrives?
Sisto was the first to relish the rain with enormous appreciation. As soon as he saw it, he stepped from the open side door of the cafe into the laneway, raising his arms to the sky, praising above with outstretched hands. He promised his wife that if it rained he would take his shirt off and dance in it like a crazy romantic. He didn't quite go as far as au naturale in the middle of the street but his smile spread wider than usual and it was so wonderful to watch him delight in getting absolutely wet that I could not myself resist. Rain is not such a novelty to an Aucklander but I love it when the leisure to enjoy the sensation of water on my skin is there. Now was the time to completely immerse and absorb the liquid and so in my light summer dress, I joined my friend in the street. A couple of ladies sitting in the window of cafe within arms reach smiled, content to watch us from their position of dry. They were laughing with us not at us Singin' in the rain.
It was quite possibly the most delicious water I have experienced. I have to admit that I envisaged a more dramatic response from the general populace when the drought finally broke. I expected the city to come to a halt and for there to be joyous dancing in the streets as Sisto and I were doing but life went on as usual, the theatrics left to the last of the true romantics. This morning the rain continues, set in hopefully for the day. It is heavy but I am still declining an umbrella purchase to avoid chasing it away. I am happy to walk uncovered in the rain, it freshens me as well as the streets and already that is apparent. Last night's hot wet produced the smell of oil on tar, this morning's fresh has brought out the long forgotten scent of leaves and grass. On the street I breathe in Eucalyptus and lavender, fragrances touched and released by nature. A colourful array of umbrellas have opened, an unusual sight this sea of spreading cover over heads used to being bare. There is one sound however that does not bring cheer, the sound of sirens as emergency services race to accidents on roads coated heavily in oil and now slick in the wet. Drivers have forgotten how to cope with slippery driving.
This morning I sit with the old regulars at Tiamo in Lygon Street. The talk, usually centred around the AFL trials and first games of the season, today is all about the weather. It should continue like this for a month, they plead with smiles wide on their faces. Then we would be saved. If only it was that simple fellas. It had stopped by midday and the sun came out again to evaporate the results.
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