I woke very early this morning to the sound of rain on the roof of the RV. The humid warmth of the night melted into the crisp punctuation of
big fat, lazy drops of rain splattering one after the other, until the rain gradually became softer and steadier.
I closed the windows and roof vents just in time.
Call me crazy, but rain changes everything. It’s beautiful.
This morning in West Virginia, It adds contrast in the trunks and branches of naked or newly-budding trees, and makes the colour of blossoms more vivid. Roads shimmer with silvery light, and grass comes to life with lush, bright-green enthusiasm.
As we continue to drive down I79 South, the misty rain softens the stark outlines of the trees and of the mountains that range as far as the eye can see. Near the horizon, they blend into ethereal nothingness.
There are more picture-postcard villages dotted along the highway, but the rain and the fog on the windows makes it impossible to take photographs. That’s the only thing I don’t like about the rain.