For better or worse, having a dog forces me to get out into weather I may not otherwise go out in. Today I’m grateful for that.
Did you know that Vancouver has a magic hour on rainy days? It does.
The catch is you gotta be willing to venture out in it.
It happens about an hour after sunset. It’s still light enough to make out the outline of the Downtown skyline and the neighborhoods’ West Vancouver. Yet, it’s dark enough that heavy sheets of rain blur out the lights. Each little light, a TV screen of thousands of private stories, all muted like lighted candles in a smoky bar. Then there’s the layers of sound-the lapping of the waves, car tires speeding through wet pavement and the staccato of each drop smacking the hood of my raincoat. The darkness provides privacy and the orchestra a soundtrack. It feels comforting and peaceful. I love the rain.
There’s the smell of salt, sea, and the vestige of hot oil coming from the local pub. And of course, there’s the added bonus of the smell of wet dog. I’m not in a rush to get home even though I’m wet to my toes. I just want to take it all in. After all, I’m just a visitor here.
Strangely, this darkness, the smell of rain and ocean and the feel of wet sand under my boots make me crave soup; a thick and hardy soup made of tomatoes, garlic and chickpeas.