Raindancing

When I was a child we had a summer cottage in the country. I treasured those summers there - and even winters, before I had begun school.

Even though it was pure luxury with a water toilet and a real shower when we came home to the city... Before we installed that too.

When I went into my teens the house and those kind of summers wasn't really that interesting anymore. For some reason I had other things that I preferred to do during summer holidays...

The place then never really regained it's special magic. After my father had died we kept the house for some years before we decided it was best to sell it since neither I nor my mother had the energy or inclination to keep it in order.

I haven't been there after that, even if it might be interesting to see what they've done with the place, the vast garden, the little forest behind the cottage - where I used to take a basket with cookies and lemonade and have a picnic on my own.

Perhaps I took a doll or two with me, and entertained them with my fair voice singing. Poor dolls. I'm sorry for all the therapy you probably had to go through after those singing sessions in the forest behind the cottage, the lemonade and cookies wasn't really enough to make up for listening to that I suppose... - I think it would somehow spoil all the lovely memories of those childhood summers.

One thing I remember vividly from those summers is our rain-dances. Those didn't take place in order to make the rain come, but occurred when the rain was already pouring down. My mother and I then threw our clothes off and danced and chased each other around the house. It sounds really 7oies, doesn't it? And lovely.

The house and garden was situated rather secluded, so I guess nobody saw us crazy city folks running stark naked in the rain. I bet that sight would have scared the more conservative provincials... While it made us all happy and giggly, wet and laughing.

Sometimes when the rain's pouring down here I think about starting up with rain dancing again. In my neighbourhood. Only now it would be far from endearing any longer. It would most probably be as frightening for the neighbours and need for therapy-causing as my singing for a captive audience of dolls was back then.

So I just ponder the idea. And stand in the garden with the rain pouring down my face. That's happiness in a smaller sort of way, a more private, careful, no risk of making a fool of oneself way. Not sure it's as liberating as stark naked rain dancing around the house though.

But yesterday I did have a very private, and very endearing moment in the rain, in the garden, with my clothes on. I was hanging linen to dry on the porch - under roof - and I was then accompanied by two small family members. Pelle the cat, made his way into the lilac hedges while Malte the loaf doggie sat on the porch overlooking his territory in the dark, a bit tired and weary.

Then raindrops began to fall really quietly, so I sat down beside Malte to enjoy the rain. And was soon accompanied by the cat in the lilac hedge, since he is never one short of time for cuddling. So we sat there all three of us, on the porch, in the middle of the night - I do love my nights, when I have the opportunity - while the raindrops kept falling slowly.

Except for the rain everything was so quiet, it felt like we were miles away from any other living being. It was just one of those extraordinary moments in life. So simple really, me and my two very furry guys, but so precious. Despite the clothes on and the lack of rain dance.