When you live on the west coast of Canada, in the middle of rainforest country, you better be able to abide the rain.
Those clear drops don’t look like much, and that is entirely part of their wicked charm. They will pull at you, trying to wash away the colors of your world, leaving you a bedraggled mess of depression.
Low lying cloud cover will make you run for duvet feathers while you are committed to long loud yawns that no amount of coffee seem able to banish.
In the last six hours I have seen several different kinds of rain. There are the huge drops that fall fast to the ground that look like short lines rather than actual drops. They transform slightly into drops that almost look like snow they are so big and reflect so much of the grey skies. These ease up to the slower cousins that bounce upwards as they commit suicide upon the asphalt. Then again the drops diminish in size, shifting with direction; utterly content to play follow the leader with the winds. For hours, days and weeks this will be how the days will knit together, married to the fog.
Yes, if you are to put down roots in a rainforest, you better be able to abide the rain.