Many years ago, I lived in Ireland for close to three years, so people–I know rain.
When my mother came to visit us, her response to the weather was, “If I lived here, I’d grow moss on my north side”! ( By the by–that idea that moss grows on the north side of trees isn’t true–moss is opportunistic and will grow most anywhere it finds the damp conditions it prefers.)
In Dublin where we first lived, and out in Corofin, County Clare, where we eventually spent our last 9 months overseas, there were “soft days” when the rain was just a mist and your heavy woolen sweater and a hat kept you dry enough. Other days were “spitting”–not awful, but annoying. When the rain got heavier it was “punishing,” “pissing,” “hammering,” and of course, folks talked of “buckets” of rain as well. Rain was simply a condition of life.
So as we’ve had this series of Vermont rainy days, I’ve tried to take on an Irish attitude and not let a bit of rain keep me indoors all the time. And look at how green the landscape has grown with all the moisture. Why, you might think you were in the Emerald Isle itself!