Today I woke to the sound of soft rain tapping gently on the roof. As the morning has gone on, it’s become more insistent, a drumbeat keeping time on my day. The plants are relishing the lengthy shower, their colours transformed into ultra bright versions of themselves. Everything in the garden looks so much more vibrant under the heavy clouds than the glare of the sun.
I love the rain, apparently that makes me a ‘pluviophile’ from the Latin pluvial, for rain, and phile, denoting a thing or person. I love the sound of rain, the feel of it on my skin and most of all, I love the smell of rain. Did you know the smell of the first rain after a dry spell has its own word too? Petrichor. You might not have much call to use it in everyday chit chat but it could come in handy at a trivia night…
Peeking out through the window, now painted with lines of water, I can see that the roses are bowing their beautiful heads, heavy with the many drops they’ve embraced in their petals. I know they’ll lift them up again to face the sun soon. It’s so grey and dull it feels like midwinter, the drop in temperature has me craving a hot chocolate oozing with marshmallows so it’s off to put the kettle on for me!
Tales From Canberra 
I have just found out the name for me too – pluviophile! I thought it was because I was born on the west coast of Scotland. Now with the garden in a region that can suffer from dryness I am an more confirmed pluviophile. Beautiful photographs. Amelia
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