Professor Checkett’s ENG 096 class, Descriptive essay, Sept. 2003.
Calm, for a Storm
Storms are often considered inclement weather. Society is too busy rushing in traffic and lugging around water-soluble paperwork from one cloned cubicle to the next. In the midst of such activity, weather of any sort is a monstrous inconvenience. Due to the disrupting, uncontrollable nature of weather, rainstorms cause stress; however, in the right frame of mind, a storm can be quite calming. With the soothing sound of rain falling, cool, dark appearance, and warm humid breezes, a storm can be a most relaxing natural setting.
The sound of millions of tiny drops slapping the ground in unison can have a very calming effect. Even in the smallest cloudburst is a veritable ensemble of unique reverberations. A mind can get lost in picking out the distinct sounds: rain bouncing across tinny rooftops or quietly settling down onto blades of grass, beating against leaves on trees as it filters down until finally slapping into a pool of glossy mud. Even a thunderclap, beginning as the sound of dry wood cracking, is placating as it rolls away, becoming a deep echo traversing across the tops of clouds. Rainfall has such a rhythmical, and enveloping sound, it seems to swallow up the irksome noise of city life. Sirens, cars, aircraft, all become still in the soothing quiescence of a rainstorm, quietly bowing in the presence of a greater art. It is as if the bustling, noisy verve of the city has suddenly ceased in the din of the storm. Noises that still sift through seem to mesh with those of the storm, coming out enhanced and exotic. A car passes by, its tires like thick blades sawing through diamond, whines as it leaves behind a splattering echo. The city seems to take on a whole new feeling during a rainstorm.
Such a storm is capable of changing the way the world looks just as easily. Darker hues easier on the eyes and calming to the mind begin to emerge. The light blue sky, perhaps strewn with wispy clouds, becomes a deeper navy, or gray. Clouds seem to multiply exponentially, each fattening like a soggy crescent roll, and rolling over as if ready to split and expel its watery contents. Watching the clouds seems hypnotizing, as if a body can be drawn up into the heavens. Contrasting shadows diminish, and a heavy, moist veil obscures sharp details. Objects once unmistakable now seem vague, separated by thick sheets of rain. The stress and concerns of the city diminish; the city begins to slow down in the midst of the rain. The ground seems to be alive as raindrops shatter across it, bouncing up fitfully before settling down again. After being filled with falling crystal, a dull pothole is like a fragmented mirror for the darkened sky. Reaching the lower spots, gutters and small rifts in the ground, raindrops gather into steadily larger and larger rivulets, sliding along the ground-snakes made of fluid crystal. Entranced eyes spot once rigid windows now melting in unison, steadily dripping down themselves, yet going nowhere and never being expended. In the shadow of the storm, the city becomes a work of abstract art.
Before the storm, the air felt warm and familiar. The atmosphere of the town had for the most part, remained unaltered throughout the eventful day. When the wind came, the aura changed. At first, it was simply a slight cooling that only the tenderest of nerve endings and hair follicles could identify. But now, as the cool wind begins to pick up, it seems to form a frosty blade, which slices through the warm city air. It penetrates the skin of the busy populace, exciting the senses and forcing its way through clothing, funneling through sleeves and out collars. Then, like the cool wind left an empty space, a thin and muggy fog nestles in. Before long, tiny, soft needle-like droplets begin brushing across faces and arms. Abruptly, the rain begins to come in sheets, blown about into shrouds by a nippy breeze. The sultry wind begins violently tossing the rain about, walls of raindrops falling toward the earth are rounded up and slung hard, walloping building facades, and enveloping parked cars. A contrast of the thick, soggy air coupled with the tiny, cold raindrops causes goose bumps to animate the skin. Like hundreds of gentle fingers, chubby raindrops fall onto drenched hair, drizzling down a face chilled by the breeze. An open mind can be overcome by the sensations of the storm.
In order to enjoy nature in the days of Internet, rush hour and 5-minute coffee breaks, an open mind is an absolute must. Man as a whole has become quite separated from nature. Enjoying something as seemingly chaotic as a storm requires an amount of detachment from the daily grind. Admittedly, individuals are not often praised for standing about in ‘bad weather’. A storm may seem to be a danger and a disturbance, but if a mind is allowed to absorb all of the wonderful sensations of the storm, it can become a very pacifying, almost liberating experience.
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