So I have officially met rainy
season. The locals were in a fit because it came so late this year; being that
I have no crops of my own, I was lesson concerned, although I understood.
I
still have no crops, but I’m starting to understand a little more now. It’s
like those whale sharks in the Atlanta Aquarium ….once you’ve seen them, you’d
know if they were missing. Rainy season here is not a slight spritz around the
3 o’clock hour nor is it a sudden deluge either, it’s an event. Each afternoon the clouds roll in across the
mountains, the wind picks up, then drizzle starts and slowly increases. It
could last a few hours or it could last all night. And the locals certainly
expect it to happen every day.
From
a practical standpoint I see the usefulness; the agrarian culture here depends
on it. From a nature standpoint I can even see the beauty; I had a great time
thinking of a way to describe it to you, even though I came up with nothing.
However, from a personal standpoint I’m slightly worried. I’ve been thinking a
lot about morning glories this week. Yep, I mean the flower. A morning glory is
a flower that closes up each night and reopens with the sun each day. I’ve
never lived somewhere with a rainy season before and I’ve only been in this one
for about a week, so I don’t have a lot to go on; but I’m starting to worry
that I’m a morning glory. Or maybe an afternoon not-so-glory. This week, each
day when the rain started I just wanted to stop. I’m hoping it was simply a
blah week that happened to coincide with the arrival of rainy season; but if
not, what do I do? The sun may be out in the mornings, but there are a lot of
afternoons between now and March.
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