Rain always triggers a million memories for me; times from when I was younger, or more recent events. Maybe it’s the sensation of everything being washed clean that helps scrub my memory. Whatever it is, I always feel a rush of emotion when the rain starts to fall.
My early stormy memory takes place in High River, Alberta. My cousin Kari and I were thick as thieves, taking on the world together. Our moms are not only sisters, but also best of friends, so Kari and I had plenty of moments to explore the world.
This one particular day, we found ourselves in possession of two ice cream buckets. Empty, I should add, because had they been full of ice creamy goodness, we would have been snacking all day and this blog wouldn’t be about the weather. Anyway, two empty ice cream buckets in hand, we donned our rain boots and jackets, and went out in the very gloomy weather. And wouldn’t you know it, there were WORMS EVERYWHERE. Not just a few earthworms here and there. I mean EVERYWHERE. Fat ones, skinny ones, long ones, short ones… worms, worms, worms!!! We took one look at each other, and decided it was our job to catch all of the worms. So we did, all afternoon. Soon, those empty ice cream buckets weren’t so empty, and we brought our findings back to show my Aunty Sherry. I’ll never forget her scream, and the look on her face when she saw what we had collected. She told us to get rid of them, so I promptly dumped all of the worms onto the back deck. (It seemed like the logical spot to dispose of the wriggly creatures. Clearly, not so brilliant on my part.) The next day, when the world had dried up and the sun came out, there were tiny little earthworm imprints all along the pavement where I had tossed them to their death.
My other rainy memory isn’t so dark, and much more recent.
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When I first moved to Regina, I had the unfortunate task of trying to find an apartment. As many of you must know, apartments go very quickly in the city. Moving day was quickly approaching with no accomodation in sight so I jumped on the first available unit; a 1 room, 302 sq. ft bachelor suite in the south-end. So excited to live on my own for the first time, I packed away all of my worldly possessions and drove east. Alas, I probably should have skipped the packing and just driven east.
I crammed that apartment so full of my stuff that there was only about 2 and a half square feet of floor showing. Imagine a room, probably the size of your living room. Now put in a kitchen (tiny), bathroom (tinier and all green — including the TUB!!), a queen sized bed, treadmill, 54″ TV, bookshelf, large dresser, a bicycle and two leather chairs. I think it’s safe to say I could have left some of my things at home.
I dubbed it the ‘crapartment’, and there I lived for the next 6 months.
Really, it wasn’t so bad. With only me living there, it was fine with that small of space. I learned how to live in small quarters, and made myself quite at home.
That was, until it started to rain. And the summer of 2011, it rained. Rain, rain, rain. Everytime it rained, so did my window. Drip, drip, drip. Maybe that’s where my fascination with weather stemmed from; having my own storm system brewing in the crapartment. Needless to say, I jumped at the opportunity to occupy a ‘drier’ space, and the rest is history.
Worms and leaky windows… sounds like a bad country song, no?
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