Do you panic? Or embrace the fresh drops falling from the sky? You know, the ones that make you feel alive with their gentle (or pounding) pitter-pat on your drenched skin and rain soaked clothes.
In the simplification of life, eco-conscious choices start to become daily routine and along with this comes the comforts/discomforts of choosing a method of transportation that best suits your needs. For seven years now we have been steadfast on our choice of going about life without a car, rather riding bicycles or hopping on a bus (i.e. public transportation) to Szeged.
We ride in the hot summer sun, in freezing temperatures all throughout winter, through winds that either push you or hold you back, and on occasion: rain.
Sometimes it comes unexpectedly, other times we can only hope to beat the drops. On a recent twenty-four kilometer round trip ride to a neighboring town for a 25 kg sack of slaked (hydrated) lime for whitewashing, an axe handle and a canvas bag of gluten-free fare, it started with sunny skies and ended with anything but. There was a downpour just as we left town, so we did what we had to do, we just kept on riding. Clouds were moving left and right and like a true summer storm, that bout of rain didn’t last for more than we could cycle 6 kilometers.
The sun started to appear and along came a flat tire in the rear. So, about four miles from home we were forced by nature (and the many limitations of bicycle tires) to walk. Pushing both bikes, me with the 25 kg sack of whitewash on the back rack and Roland with Csermely in the mei tai on his own, we continued on.
Rain is rain. If you are out in nature, sometimes you get caught in the rain. It is a matter of fact and a matter of life.
Your reactions are your own, you can curse the skies or you can look up, get water in your eyes and laugh about life in that very moment. It is good to feel connected to the Earth, to the local environment, to the sun, to the rain, to the changing of seasons, to move along with the clouds…
The flies are covering the screen door at five in the afternoon, soaking up some heat escaping from our wood-fired kitchen; the smell of dinner warming on the stove – it should only mean – as a sure sign from the flies – that more rain is on the way. Thunder in the far distance suggests that these clouds may pass, perhaps the flies know it best.
When did you last get caught in the rain?