The rain began just a bit before I left work. In Portland, we have several words for the moods of precipitation. This mood was a tantrum, a downpour. The sky was as dark as dusk, passing cars had headlights on, any shadow that tried to peek around the budding trees earlier in the day had fully retreated. And the rain, the rain was the kind that instantly soaks. Not a mild shower that allows one to dodge raindrops but a full on bucket brigade of rain.
Riding a bike in this kind of torrent is such an extreme act that I respond to it as if tickled. I get just a tad giddy. It seems too whimsical a moment to be dismayed. Getting that wet, that fast, is instead enjoyable. Why be bothered by a little moisture when you can rush out and be with the liquid of life as it streams through the streets. Rather than retreat to shelter I rumba with my bike in the rain – bring it on Gene Kelly!
But the cloud passed as I made my way home. Behind it the late afternoon sun blazed onto the dark wall of the eastern horizon. The light was intoxicating. I pass by this radio tower daily. Being an interesting structure, I do take note of it often. Yesterday, it was screaming at me to stop and look, to drink in the contrasting light and its flood of warmth. I stop look, capture a photo and continue on my way. The tantrum ending in a lullaby that rocked me the rest of the way home.