A Canadian Quarantine — Day 7
“Still Life” — One of the principal genres of Western art where the subject matter is anything that does not move or is dead. (Tate.org.uk)
Rain. Glorious rain! So glorious, in fact, that it begs this California boy to stare and listen with amazement. Had it not have been occurring during our quarantine, I would have run outside and embarrassed myself with some sort of primal dance. Instead, I sit, watch, and listen to the spectacle that locals find unremarkable.
Back in the recesses of my mind, I recall days when it did, in fact, rain in California — even in Southern California, which is geographically referred to as a Coastal Desert. We lived tucked into the Palos Verdes hills, at the bottom of a steep road where it flattened momentarily so drivers could stop at a stop-sign before they continued tearing downhill. There was a strategically placed storm drain in front of our house. But when it rained hard and the debris flow blocked the drain, we had a wonderful pond to play in.
For the life of me, I’ve never quite figured out where all the worms came from after the rain stopped and the puddles begged for boys and girls to come splashing. The puddles seemed to call to the universe of worms, like a church-bell calling worshipers to take their places in the pews. Only in this case, the pews were soaked and the parishioners had no brains — or none that we could recognize.
Experiencing the torrent while inside, dry and warm, is not quite the same thrill as my childhood memory, but welcome nonetheless. Boots are replaced by warm socks; worms are replaced by chocolate filled snacks — but the sounds of raindrops and wind rattling the trees is enough to make up the difference.
It’s all part of our Canadian Quarantine. Life, that is still…