Rain

“Today’s our lucky day!” I said that to myself, my friends, and my guests every time it rained in Japan. I got it from Otosan and Okasan. It was a joke, but, looking back, it did kind of feel like rain enhanced Japan.

I have written about rain many times here on Okashi. Mostly because it was a very large part of my life. I have never lived anywhere with so much annual rainfall. Nor have I ever been so reliant on my own two feet to get me around. I spent a lot of time in the rain. I learned first to accept it, then to appreciate it. And now I miss it.

Rain at Iga Castle

Unlike Japanese rain, American rain doesn’t seem to have the same magic. Thunderstorms are the one exception to this, but that’s due more to the theatrics of lightning than the rain. No, rainstorms in America just seem dreary. Everything is grey and lusterless, like some post-apocalyptic world of barren concrete. The Japanese rain seemed to enhance color and smell. American rain seems to dampen everything. Rain here smells like asphalt or nothing at all.

Perhaps I am just missing Japan. Spring in the Dakotas is an especially dreary season of mud, clouds, and drizzle. It comes late and moves fast, zipping past that brief moment of excitement as buds swell and bloom. Everything goes from brown to green in a weekend then just as quickly back to brown as the heat of summer sets in. So quick you can’t appreciate the awakening of the season.