Sunshine in the Rain

If you’ve ever visited Melbourne, you may be aware of our obsession with the weather.  Four seasons in one day is more than just a cliché here.

But in the past couple of years, since La Nina paid her visit and ended a decade long drought, winter rains have lingered into murky grey summers, only to return another season of gloom.

It’s been feeling like one endless winter of the sun-starved mind.

With the recent announcement that La Nina is officially over, we were just beginning to believe that summer’s on its way.  But then she struck again.

Without warning, in the middle of the night, we woke to a bone shattering thunderclap.  The heavens opened, and there came the rain.

It poured and thundered through the morning, only to be mirrored in our collective mood.  With one mind, we thought – will La Nina never end?

But then, as suddenly as the storm had come, it departed.  By the afternoon, its traces were erased by gleaming sun.

Sometimes, life is like that.  There are people we meet for whom winter is especially long and cruel.  We witness in their eyes a never ending rain.

It’s impossible for them to see the parting of the clouds, or the shards of sunlight peering through.  And yet, for us, the miracle is plain to see.

This post is written for someone I care deeply about, who this week has been lost within the storm…

For anyone in pain today, I wish you Sunshine in the Rain.


Credit for images is as follows:

Storm Warning by Katrin Blumenschein, courtesty stock.xchng
Rainbow Field by Jason Wickens, courtesy stock.xchng


  1. says


    I spent most of my life in Las Vegas, a city of never-ending sunshine, where rain was something to be celebrated. If it came during the day, everyone in the office would rush to the windows and open the doors and stand there inhaling this quicksilver miracle: water from the sky.

    Now I live in Oregon, where it rains more often than not. I’ve been assured that I’ll tire of the rain eventually, but secretly I know it will always seem like magic.

    • says

      Wow, that’s quite a contrast in environments. There’s something about those kinds of sensory experiences, though, isn’t there? They stay with you.

      The way you describe it, I can practically smell the magic 🙂

  2. says

    Beautiful analogy, and such loving words…
    When you have La Nina, we get fierce winds off the Tasman, and boy have we had them this year… my roses blown to bits, and hard plums coming off the plum tree, being dashed to the ground before they ripen.Weather rules!
    Your Pepi books look so attractive… hope they sell well for ChristmasXXX

  3. says

    This is beautiful and I hope your friend is lifted by your care. Having a poem written especially for you is indeed something to treasure.
    On a more practical note, I hear Melbourne experienced a searing 38.8 degrees in the last day or two. Records breaking. I understand we all have to get used to that now.

    • says

      My friend is feeling better, thank you 🙂

      You are right about the 38 degrees! And after that, we had more storms and rain! We’re pretty lucky though – we haven’t had anything like the disastrous conditions of other places. It’s a crazy world we’re living in…

  4. liz says

    Back home in North Carolina, the weather seems to change quite drastically too. I totally understand that phenomenon…

    I find that nature often gives me so much to reflect on & relate to life, as well. The cycles, the hope, the struggles. Thank you for this beautiful post!

  5. says

    We New Englanders have a saying: If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute. I’m usually adding or subtracting some outerwear in the middle of the day. Weather makes for good conversation for this reason.

  6. says

    This post brought tears to my eyes.

    Real, hot, wet, threatening-to-pour-down-my-face tears.


    You have this tendency, you know. Reaching past the words, past perceptions, past everything that keeps our guard held high and our defenses in place — and with your gentle insights, you give our spirits a hug.

    That’s amazing. You are a gifted and empathetic being. I feel very blessed to have found your post today. Truly.


    • says

      Dear wonderful Brandy! I’m always left utterly speechless by your expansive and loving comments. To know that some of my words might have reached through and touched someone – that is worth more to me than anything in this world.

      Thank you.

  7. says

    I love the rain. We put on our rain boots and go exploring. The creeks are bursting, the gutters are full, our house feels sealed tight and heavy with wetness. It feels like the world is getting swallowed up. Yes, I see how it is very much like sadness. I feel grateful not to feel that, at least for now. Beautiful writing.

    • says

      That picture you just drew of rain gives me such a cosy and oddly uplifting feeling. It reminds me of the old reliable rain from my childhood that lulled us to sleep at night. Not sad at all, but comforting. Thank you.

  8. says

    Like Girl in the hat, I love the rain as well. I always thought of it as angels crying. Crying for our mistakes, crying for the beautiful things we do, crying for so many reasons. And with the rain comes a purification of all things. We are all washed clean to start fresh once again.

    This is a beautiful piece that spoke volumes and undoubtedly filled with heart. You have a lovely way with words.

  9. Deliberately Delicious says

    What a lovely, lovely post, Alarna. Your friend is fortunate to have you watching out and reminding her or him about the sunshine. It always follows the rain.

  10. says

    Weather and friendships, the places they take us, beautiful words. In what seems a past life now, the early living out bush, where the rain was rare, and welcome when it came, what I remember. The scent on the air at the leading fringe of the rain, where the raindrops and dust particles collide. The leading breeze would carry the scent for miles, and you knew the rain was coming. After the rain up here, the dusty raindrop scent became replace by the fresh smells of the Lemon-scented Gum.

    These days, kinda partial to a walk in the rain, just for the fun. Reminds me of so many places and moments.

    • says

      I really can smell and feel the rain, as you describe it! Rain in a hot climate is certainly a whole different experience than it is in the cooler regions.

      My family lived in QLD for a while… one of my first memories of arriving up there (it was summer) was of the rain coming down.. and the sweltering heat.. and standing in it, not caring if I was soaked to the bone. I’d never felt that before. It was amazing 🙂

      • says

        Yes, tropical rain is so different to rain in the temperate regions 🙂 Unless its a cyclone.

        How far up did your family make it in to the north?

        Bit of a sweltering day today, but no rain yet.

      • says

        We spent some time living in Caboolture – didn’t venture too much farther north. I did some travelling some years later… I made it as far as Townsville. Then for some reason, I came back to Melbourne and never left!

  11. 1EarthUnited says

    I keep re-reading your hand written dedication, it’s very moving. Nature is powerful but life always come full circle. The greater truth shows that we always return, since we never really left. The spirit, your spirit prevails. Take care and be well.

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