writing rain...

the world is upside down and i'm struggling

there is a meanness that I don't  remember ever being as prevalent as it seems to be now, though I suppose if I sat down and thought about it I would have to say "no, it's always been there"

still, it feels worse

as a child, when my parent's were divorcing I worked through a lot of things by writing

I remember so many times my writing began with "I'm so mad..." and for the first paragraph I would write every hard feeling I had, words pouring quickly on to the paper,  all the frustrations, anger, sadness coming out in a torrent

after that first outburst, my thoughts were freed from that weight and the rest of the page would be filled with quieter ponderings, either philosophical in nature or about nature itself

seemed those were my two favourite subjects to write about

ever since then words are how I have always found my way and writing them is down is how I make sense of what I'm experiencing and how I'm feeling about it

when I set myself the challenge to write 100 Haiku poems about the Yukon for the 100 Day project I thought, among other reasons, it would be a good distraction from the woes of the world

and it has been that

based on nature and inspired by the Yukon, I have written 22 so far

the first subject I chose was rain

we didn't get a lot of rain when I was growing up - summers were rather dry, the Yukon being classified as a "semi-arid" region

because of that rain was special, and it still is a delight to me so it made sense to begin there

this first poem was inspired by a drive to Dawson last summer... passing by a still-burning forest fire, it was raining lightly, the land shrouded with a mist

in some areas of the burn you could see the green already emerging, a stark contrast to the blackened land

its reassuring how quickly nature recovers

this one is a nod to the early spring ritual of my brothers and I scrambling through the forest on a quest to see the first sign of Spring crocuses on "Crocus Hill"

in typical Spring fashion, there was almost always sun and rain and this poem is a remembering of that

and another favourite memory ... in the Yukon I grew up in, scattered showers were the norm and it was rare for the sky to be completely covered in grey rain clouds and to pour rain steadily from morning to night

 (it's a bit different now as the climate there is changing)

instead, there was blue sky, clouds and scattered showers

the beauty of that was often, when the grey rain was falling, a shaft of light would break through the clouds and shine on the rain, changing it from a dull grey to a sparkling rain shower

we used to call them "sun showers", as if thousands of drops of sunlight were falling to the ground

simple, quiet reminders of things I noticed that mattered to me growing up... 

the things I am writing about are not unique and will be common to many, especially those who have lived close to nature

they're simply about my experience and what I noticed

and pleasant reminders of that