Raindrops on Roses

Last Wednesday we visited Morden Hall Park in South London. It was a wet day in a wet week but the rain stopped for a few hours, just long enough for us to get some fresh air and have a wander in this lovely spot. I really like places that are in the middle of cities but don't feel as though they are. Those tucked away spots, green and quiet, which offer the feeling of calm and space. They feel like a secret waiting to be discovered. It was a glorious couple of hours, despite the oppressive grey skies and the threat of more rain at any moment. The children, like dogs let off a leash, ran and jumped and splashed. We admired the rose gardens and played pooh sticks in the stream.

Do you like the rain? I don't much care for it, if I'm honest. It makes me feel depressed, restless and irritable. I, with the weather, usually feel like this: Sunny = happy. Rain = grumpy. I was really interested to read Sarah and Jennifer's recent posts on their love of rain and I learnt a new word: pluviophile. A person who loves the rain. Yes, the logical part of me knows we need rain, our land needs it, the plants need it, my garden needs it, but my mood drops with the barometer. I can feel my whole body relax when the sun comes back out from behind a cloud. I don't mind rain in the evening or at night. In fact, there is something comforting about being tucked up in bed, listening to the rain outside. But during the day? No thanks. 

I wonder if there is a word for somebody who love blue skies?