Rain Words

It would seem we folks of the temperate climes would have as many words for rain as the Eskimo have for snow.  Each drop is so singular and unique.

Why is there no word for the mist like rain that falls so softly through the conifer woods of the far north coasts, or the torrent pours of the Great Plains?  There is no word for the high mesa rains where giant drops fall far enough apart that a man can walk through the storm without getting wet and yet lay with his love under the tin roof music of its drumming. Nor for the rain that keeps day at bay and silences the rooster, letting us sleep 'till noon.

There is no word for the warm playful summer rain that brings children dancing near naked in the fields of the Shenandoah.  Nor for the freezing rain that tears at the tough hide of Marbleheaders to sea.  Nor for that driven rain like spikes that whips from the Great Lakes.  No singular word for the turning leaf willowy mountain  rain of melted snowfall.  Nor for the hurricane rains on south coast barrier islands.  No word exists for the sound of rain on new growth oak and hickory leaves at the break of spring.  And what is the name for that special rain that bounces in a cacophony of thumps on a taunt skinned umbrella shared with a smiling friend? 

There is no word for the rare Sonora rain that brings exquisite bloom to the desert world.  Nor for that rain that feeds us on Kansas wheat and Arkansas rice.  No word for that strange yellow glow that comes with the tornado's rain.  There isn't even a word for the bone chilling rain of San Francisco though it would be as apt in Boston.  Nor a word for the invariable campers rain that drenches tents and molders sleeping bags for chattering teeth nights.  And, how is the rain named that arches and arches again in the enlightening majesty of the divine colors?

We need a word for the goodbye rain that hides our tears when the door is slammed and we hit the cobbled streets and a word for the gray rain that melts the red clay at casket side.  A word too, for the laughing rain that giggles with us when we run for the great white lawn tents behind the young bride and groom.  And a name too, for the false sunset valley fiery rain, frothy and boiling deep, a Good Friday rain thunderous precursor to the Rising.

I've felt much rain but the words escape me.

Mono Lake Rain