… bring May flowers. Or so it’s said. I’ve been known to bitch and moan about rain, after about the third or fourth day in a row of getting soaked. Of having to make a run for it. Of walking around with wet shoes, and wet feet. Which is why, as much as I love Vancouver, beautiful as it is, I think I’d have a hard time living there. All that rain (and miserable, grey skies) can be very depressing.
But there are times I love the rain.
I had a friend, years ago, whose parents had a cottage up north, in the Laurentian Mountains (about an hour north of Montreal). I loved their house, because it had a huge screened-in front porch. It was the size of a living room; and, truth be told, everyone sat there, most of the time. It had a bluish grey painted hardwood floor, and lots of over-sized, over-stuffed, mis-matched, comfy furniture.
My favourite was a big old iron-framed daybed that was pushed right up against one of the screened windows. Continue reading