‘Twas a dark and stormy night, and it was beautiful. People love sunny days and clear nights, but I cannot see how one can hate the rain. It rained last night, and I went outside to see it.
The sky was darkening, but there were hints of sun to the west. The light had left, and everything was shrouded in gray. I sat on the back porch, looking out, and I saw the green. The green of the lawn and of the bushes and of the various trees and of the potted plants. Each green was unique. The lack of light highlighted (haha) the differences in the green, somehow canceling out the pure green in all, to reveal the differences (think of it as factoring out common terms). The bushes were yellowish, the tree across the fence tinted red. One tree had shiny leaves, and another’s were slightly blue. A tree across the other fence had red flowers, which attracted the eye.
I remembered drawing trees when I was younger. I would start with a green to make leaf shapes, and then add in another shade and another. The end result would be a tree with greens of every type. As I looked out, I realized how silly that way was. No tree had both lime green and forest green leaves. Perhaps if I had drawn five different trees, each with leaves of a different green, it would have been better. I sat out there for ten minutes, with my fingers getting dustier and dustier from touching the floor. I endured a couple of mosquito bites too, but that was too trivial a reason to stop admiring the beauty around me.
I turned to face the house, and noticed how intolerably pinkish it was inside. The grays of the outside were much lovelier; the incandescent light filled the house with an unnatural glow. I went in and turned off all of the lights. I stood in the darkness and looked about, but it just wasn’t right. So I gave up and sat down on my piano bench, lights still off. I began to play “My Favorite Things”. I made more mistakes than usual, but it had a touch of romance to it. Something about barely being able to make out the keys and sitting there, playing a song that was originally supposed to cheer children frightened of weather much like what was going on outside. Except I was already happy.
I turned the lights back on. What looked serene outside made the inside seem dead. I went out to see what my dad was doing in the garage. He was cleaning up, and told me to dump the water samples I used for my science project last year. I had never gotten around to it. Instead of going to the sink, I turned to the open garage door and jumped out with glee, unscrewing the water bottle and adding just that much more water to the falling rain. I rolled up my jeans and disposed of the other four bottles, one at a time, with growing enthusiasm. I giggled to myself as I wondered whether it was safe to dump this water and then realized that of course it was; my experiment tested that very fact! I found one more bottle that needed emptying and savored my last chance to go out in the rain.
I returned with my pants legs wet a few centimeters up (1-2 inches for you gorram Americans who cannot understand metric units), my shirt slightly damp, and my face aglow. It was lovely outside, but I could not find another bottle to empty. Then my dad saw a frog hop in, and realized it was probably time to shut the garage door before he made it into the house. And so I came back inside; my dark and stormy night had come to an end.