My 2 year old son woke up, like, a million times through the night, and, as usual, got out of bed, left his room and came into our room to climb into bed with us. We're not having any more of it so we had to get up too, every time, to take him back to his own bed.
Since my ears were on full alert, listening for the tell-tale squeak of his bed to tell me I've got to get out of bed again, the incredibly loud thunder scared the hell out of me, conjuring images of furniture falling on my son as he stumbles around in the dark.
Then it doesn't really rain that hard all day (of course, how can I tell, the nearest I can see a window from my office would require me to lean out my doorway and squint 30 meters or so) but seems to wait until I have to walk to my car on my way home.
As I've said before probably, I like the rain. And it's nice to have a change of weather after so much cold and snow. Of course, I like snow too. I like the weather people grumble about the most.
I'm listening to Tori Amos' cover of Billy Holiday's "Strange Fruit" right now. It strangely fits into talk about the rain. It's a sad story about... well I'll let the lyrics speak for themselves:
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Here's the allmusic.com review for the piece.