It's a beautiful sound

I believe the bulk of the rain may be behind us now. We've had so much. I had been thinking all the rain was typical of Costa Rica in October, but according to the front page of the paper Friday, there hasn't be so much rain since 1944. Apparently it rained more in three days last week than it usually does in all of the month. Too much rain makes me sad. But on Friday, I woke up to blue skies. A lady at the bus stop commented to me that the season had changed. Later when I was outside walking with the baby, a high school student asked me if I was taking advantage of summer. Summer! Just like that. Yesterday we were in the dead of winter (77 degrees in my bedroom), and already today we are in summer. The seasons have been on my mind lately, so what else could I do but write a blog post about them. I forgot to post it while I was at the Internet Friday morning, so here it is, a little late but still timely.

I think I understand the bright paints of the houses here now. It's an effort to break up the monotony of green. There is the pure green green of nature everywhere. One glance out the window and all there is green. Scan the horizon and you see nothing but green. Look to your left and two your right. Green, green, green. I used to say with wonder, "It's just so green!" Now I say the same line with something more like disgust. I am ready to be home for a while. I wish for the feeling of fall in Arkansas, the look and smell of it. And the colors! Unlike the enduring green of Costa Rica, the colors of fall in Arkansas come and go so quickly, there is no time to tire of them. I can almost feel the fall wind picking up, bringing with it relief from the heat of summer and a hint of the coming cold. Maybe it's the rain that has me in such a nostaligic state. We are in the thick of it now. It rains off and on all day and all night, and even when it's not raining, the air is heavy with moisture. Water stands in every depression and drips from every eave. Mud is everywhere, tracked in on the bottoms of our shoes, clinging to the cuffs of our jeans, smeared into the hand-woven rugs on the doorsteps. The white uniform shirts of the students are splattered ugly with brown, and their blue slacks stay rolled to the knees. The heels of our flip-flops sling mud onto to the backs of our legs. There is almost more mud than green. The rivers are roaring and brown these days, filling homes and wiping away bridges as they make their way to the sea. And all there is to look forward to is the coming dry season, in which the heat will be as oppressive as the current rain. Back home the seasons hang around just long enough to give a feeling of excited expectancy. And when they change, we feel reassured by their reliability. In winter, we listen for the birds of spring and are comforted by the sight of flowers blooming. In Spring we tire of the thunderstorms and rain showers and long for the opportunities brought by summer. But in summer, it gets so hot. Won't fall be here soon? And then it comes and goes, and we remark gleefully, as we do every year, on the cozy smell that comes when we turn on our heaters for the first time. We cook chili and hope for snow. But it's not long before we are again listening for the birds of spring and taking note of the first green spikes peaking up from the ground. Other than family and friends, and there for a spell, tuna sandwiches, I have not missed much about the United States. I know others have missed its politics, its department stores, it's accessibility, but I have been fine living without those things, happier even, although I am finding it hard to live without the four seasons of home.

Happy Autumn!