The crunch of boots against damp asphalt soothed my mind as my hair caught the raindrops, trapping them in the tangles I didn’t bother to brush out this morning because the downpour would create more anyway. But yesterday’s sweeping storm had placated today’s skies which, though still blinding white, let down only a light drizzle.
I had wrapped a clear plastic bag over my camera and cut in it a hole for my lens to peek through. Then, as a final barrier, I flapped my coat over everything and set off into the streets looking like I was trying to sneak a tub of food into the movies.
On foot I trekked from home to a nearby hiking trail that I knew stretched through hills and valleys, offering beautiful views at any angle of my little town below. Rain brings out a sort of beauty seldom revealed on regular days here in sunny Southern California. So despite being put off slightly by the chill, I wanted to see what I could discover.
Up here in the mountains I found myself traversing a wholly different atmosphere, one which offered room for a sort of catharsis only ever stifled by the suburbs below. It enveloped my spirit without entrapping. It was liberation.
I leapt over the wooden steps along the path, my boots sinking into mud. My hair, tied in a too-big bun, still reached desperately for every puddle when I crouched down low for a shot.
Stunning scenes continued to greet me in every direction. Lush flora all around seemed vivified by the drink, brimming vigorously with vibrant hues absent just weeks ago. Occasionally I spotted a pair of bunnies out at play, though they always bustled away whenever my camera and I inched too close.
Out in the open but shrouded by isolation, I felt safe. I was a soul refreshed by the sprinkle of rain, and I could ask for nothing more.