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At night, in the winter times, ice forms on the interior of the windows where I live, depending on location of the window, thickness of the glass and so on. By morning, between the household heat cycling on and the heat of the rising sun, the ice melts quickly and forms these interesting patterns. I have learned to grab my camera and walk briskly from window to window knowing I have only a few moments to “see” something before the waters dissipate.  This morning in one room …

I saw the silhouette of water drops on the sheer white curtain.

And then I pulled aside the curtain to see the drops themselves and also saw the reflection of the curtain in the glass.  In the hallway there was a tree …

at least that’s how I thought of it because the pattern reminded me of this tree I’d seen recently in Harvard Square.

And in the kitchen …

quite the landscape there had formed on the glass.

But now the temperatures have risen and all this beauty is now gone, at least until tomorrow.

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Aside from those times when I’m waiting at the bus station for what seems like hours and the winds are blowing so hard that an umbrella is useless, I love the rain. The sound of rain on rooftops. The scent of rain. The sight of rain striking windows or dripping from leaves.  Peter Gabriel’s Red Rain is one of my favorite songs. All the different renditions of I Can’t Stand the Rain … just love it.  Living in the northeastern part of the U.S.,I’ve rarely had to think about rain. There’s no real lack of it.  I’ve just accepted it when it falls but Cynthia Barnett’s book, Rain, truly gave me a new appreciation for rain’s influence in shaping human society and culture both in the past and in the present.

Over the past two months, I’ve carried the book across two continents.  Just under 300 pages in length, it’s not that long but the writing is dense and detailed. There’s no one narrative thread leading you someplace.  Each chapter is like an umbrella and beneath that umbrella there’s a beautifully complicated web of stories all united by rain. One moment you’re reading about the origin and evolution of the Mackintosh raincoat by 18th century Scottish inventor Charles Macintosh and next you’re reading about Mary Anderson, a Birmingham, Alabama socialite who devised the first windshield wiper.

The Scent of Rain is a particularly fascinating chapter where she explains how rain “picks up odors from the molecules it meets. So its essence can come off as differently as all the flowers on all the continents — rose-obvious, barely there like a carnation, fleeting as a whiff of orange blossom as your car speeds past the grove. It depends on the type of the storm, the part of the world where it falls, and the subjective memory of the nose behind the whiff.” Barnett takes the reader on a journey from a village in Uttar Pradesh where fragrances have been distilled for generations, including the scents of rain, using compounds found in nature to the labs of super-smellers and scent scientists working to synthetically develop the rain scents found in perfumes, detergents, soaps and air fresheners.

In the chapter Writers on the Storm, readers learn how rain in all its guises has influenced musicians from Chopin to Morrissey and the works of directors Robert Capra, Akira Kurosawa and Woody Allen. The book is a treasure trove of interesting stories, and well-researched facts, about how people and nature interact in the presence of rain.  If there is one suggestion I’d have for future editions it is to include maps. Barnett’s prose takes readers around the world and back again and maps illustrating that journey would be a boon.

Please note that I received this book from Blogging for Books for this review.  Additional links are below with information about the author and the book.

http://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/228186/rain-by-cynthia-barnett/

http://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/177450/cynthia-barnett/

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Sea lions in the waters along the coast of California …

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but it didn’t matter. The waters were still beautiful. Like the clouds had come down to earth.

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The drinking glass I picked up at a thrift store with the intention of planting sprouts in it this winter.  But for now it has been sitting on a table next to the window.  This morning I dropped two small tomatoes into it, just a placeholder until I chop them up for salad later.  Then that thing happened again.  While at the keyboard I happened to glance over my shoulder and there it was, a curious light on the tomato as the morning sun shone through the curves of the green glass.  At first my focus was purely the tomato but as I hunched over my still life I noticed what was happening at the base of the glass.  So I placed a piece of black cardboard beneath the glass, removed the tomatoes and added some water. This is what I saw.

I changed the level of the water. I placed the green glass on top of a clear glass to raise its height.  At one point I dropped in an ice cube.

It was just fun to see what changes might take place.

I set aside the green glass and replaced it with a clear square glass that has a thick bottom.  I photographed its pyramid like base and that was pretty cool.

Overall, my “experiment” took about 15-20 minutes.

Not much clean up.  Just some glasses to dry.

Just some glasses to dry.

 

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Many things have caught my eyes in the fading autumn light. Shadows on the ground. Angels in stained glass windows. Parsley fading in my indoor garden.  I have snapped shots of them all and yet it is the detail from two leaves given by a friend that I choose to share this day.

She handed them to me as she raced out the door, baby in one hand, and two leaves in the other. She said she thought of me as she saw them, and as she’s done in the past, she added with a smile, “Now, see what you can do with these.” Encouragement is always good. 😉

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Water flowed across the asphalt, a broken pipe perhaps.  In the bright light of the day were reflected the reds, greens, and golds of the overarching trees, and the thick dark lines of the neighboring fence.

And nearby a butterfly perched, the brightest one I’ve seen all year.

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