You're one of the premier essayists on Substack- this one is a good example. Out here on the coast it's been a long, long time since we've had any relief from drought I reproduce rain in my backyard with a fan attachment to my garden hose and the hummingbirds have flown through my artificial rain, taking drinks. I shower the apple tree and the chickadees take baths and drinks in the upturned cupped leaves. As Tinariwen days, "water is life."
Thank you very much, Michael, for such high praise. And thanks for watering the hummingbirds and chickadees. Water is life, indeed, though I imagine a few of our birds wouldn't mind an umbrella today. Another day of heavy rain here, feeding the greenery and dampening feathers.
Thanks, Patrick. That article is a hard one. It's hard to register what "by 2050 an additional billion people will be living in arid areas and regions with high water stress" really means, or that 3.3 billion people already do. So much water-related suffering on the horizon, and so many things to fix in the way we use and relate to it. It's one of the necessary fundamental shifts that are so large we can hardly see around them.
As someone who lives in a place, Seattle, well known for its wetness, we have had the opposite weather pattern. We are about 7 inches below normal. So it was nice to read of the rain again and be reminded of its beauty, complexity, and centrality to life.
Thanks, David. We've got rain for you if you need some. As for Seattle, I was surprised in my reading this week at the nuance in its rainy reputation. Apparently every east coast city receives more rain on average than Seattle, but you have more days with rain/drizzle than most U.S. cities.
Yes, that's a prevalent reputation we try to encourage. I have always liked these two quotes. The Chamber of Commerce called Seattle the land of "filtered sunshine" and long ago someone said "our rains are dry rains."
In Maine we try to limit arrivals with talk of the blackflies, but to little avail during the urban out-migration in the first Covid years. I love those two quotes, esp. the "dry rain." That's what we should call a light drizzle in this new weather pattern. It reminds me of the subtlety in Scottish weather talk for different intensities of drizzle and rain.
I have loved this rainy summer in Maine, am still loving it as I watch thr fog and drizzle today. Thank you, Jason, for a deep dive into the reasons why.
Thank you, Dudley. Heather and I love rain too, and it's been an incredible summer for watching the forest and fields thrive. But we're happy not to be trying to feed ourselves entirely out of our garden... If we could eat slugs we'd be all set.
Here in Vermont, it seems the rain has been falling all summer and the few sunny days were rare magic. I had just emailed a friend as another downpour syncopates the metal roof of my screen porch: too much rain, too many earwigs, too short a summer. And then I fell on your piece and soggy and annoyed as I am, I rejiggered just a little. Thanks. https://terryjallen.substack.com/
The earwigs! Yes, they deserve their own rainy essay. They're everywhere. Thanks for letting me know that the essay shifted you a bit, Terry. Always good to hear. And thanks for the wonderful images at Opposable.
I woke up early due to the rain, and this piece was my companion. I've always associated rain with reading and writing. When it rains, it feels like a moment for reflection. I love how you describe it as breathing. What gorgeous language.
Thank you, Carla. I love hearing that the work feels like a companion. And yes, it's been a summer for slowing down and letting the rain make the rhythm.
You're one of the premier essayists on Substack- this one is a good example. Out here on the coast it's been a long, long time since we've had any relief from drought I reproduce rain in my backyard with a fan attachment to my garden hose and the hummingbirds have flown through my artificial rain, taking drinks. I shower the apple tree and the chickadees take baths and drinks in the upturned cupped leaves. As Tinariwen days, "water is life."
Thank you very much, Michael, for such high praise. And thanks for watering the hummingbirds and chickadees. Water is life, indeed, though I imagine a few of our birds wouldn't mind an umbrella today. Another day of heavy rain here, feeding the greenery and dampening feathers.
Well, before I got to the end of this dispatch, I kept saying to myself: “This is an early outline or the beginnings of Jason’s book proposal.”
Interesting, Bryan. Might be a fun book to write, as far as writing books is fun... Something to think about.
That said, Cynthia Barnett's book looks really interesting.
Jason, thank you for this enjoyable read.
This one not so much:
https://wapo.st/44huRvW
Thanks, Patrick. That article is a hard one. It's hard to register what "by 2050 an additional billion people will be living in arid areas and regions with high water stress" really means, or that 3.3 billion people already do. So much water-related suffering on the horizon, and so many things to fix in the way we use and relate to it. It's one of the necessary fundamental shifts that are so large we can hardly see around them.
As someone who lives in a place, Seattle, well known for its wetness, we have had the opposite weather pattern. We are about 7 inches below normal. So it was nice to read of the rain again and be reminded of its beauty, complexity, and centrality to life.
Thanks, David. We've got rain for you if you need some. As for Seattle, I was surprised in my reading this week at the nuance in its rainy reputation. Apparently every east coast city receives more rain on average than Seattle, but you have more days with rain/drizzle than most U.S. cities.
Yes, that's a prevalent reputation we try to encourage. I have always liked these two quotes. The Chamber of Commerce called Seattle the land of "filtered sunshine" and long ago someone said "our rains are dry rains."
In Maine we try to limit arrivals with talk of the blackflies, but to little avail during the urban out-migration in the first Covid years. I love those two quotes, esp. the "dry rain." That's what we should call a light drizzle in this new weather pattern. It reminds me of the subtlety in Scottish weather talk for different intensities of drizzle and rain.
I have loved this rainy summer in Maine, am still loving it as I watch thr fog and drizzle today. Thank you, Jason, for a deep dive into the reasons why.
Thank you, Dudley. Heather and I love rain too, and it's been an incredible summer for watching the forest and fields thrive. But we're happy not to be trying to feed ourselves entirely out of our garden... If we could eat slugs we'd be all set.
This essay is spectacular, Jason--one for the ages. Thank you for helping all of us feel the world differently.
Wonderful, Jenny. Thanks for such kind words. And we can all feel the world differently now that we know that the rain gives us gecko fingers...
Here in Vermont, it seems the rain has been falling all summer and the few sunny days were rare magic. I had just emailed a friend as another downpour syncopates the metal roof of my screen porch: too much rain, too many earwigs, too short a summer. And then I fell on your piece and soggy and annoyed as I am, I rejiggered just a little. Thanks. https://terryjallen.substack.com/
The earwigs! Yes, they deserve their own rainy essay. They're everywhere. Thanks for letting me know that the essay shifted you a bit, Terry. Always good to hear. And thanks for the wonderful images at Opposable.
I'll do an Opposable on rain images soon and quote your rain piece. Thanks.
I woke up early due to the rain, and this piece was my companion. I've always associated rain with reading and writing. When it rains, it feels like a moment for reflection. I love how you describe it as breathing. What gorgeous language.
Thank you, Carla. I love hearing that the work feels like a companion. And yes, it's been a summer for slowing down and letting the rain make the rhythm.