For the very first time in the seven or eight years during which the Smithsonian has sent Travel Seminars to Japan in late October, yesterday we had a day of rain. 

It started out so gently (despite the forecast) that I made my usual comment about just how much Japan is better appreciated when wet.  As the rain continued and turned into a light drizzle, that optimism became a bit difficult to sustain.  

We soldiered on, however, and nine others still joined me for an early evening walk through a preserved historical district all the way back to our hotel -- even though it left several soaked through to the skin.  The reason?  I was basically right: Japan does indeed look better in the rain.

The mist rising in the Eastern Hills recalls every Japanese poem you've ever heard or read.  The subtle intensity of the color range contained in carefully chosen garden stones and rocks suddenly becomes obvious.  Garden paths pieced together in various shades of gray suddenly are transformed into patterns of great variation.  Droplets of water clinging to pine needles glisten even in the subdued light of late afternoon.  Raindrops on the surface brings curious golden carp to the surface of mirrored ponds.

There develops a sense of being enclosed in a smaller, more intimate world as one gazes out on the world beyond from the cozy space beneath an umbrella's sheltering canopy.  The landscape becomes dotted with fellow travelers, each ensconced under one's own safe, dry dome.  The pace of activity slows slightly.

When we have only days of sunshine in our lives, we can sometimes forget the benefits of cloud and rain and the calm imposed by shower and storm. 

So yesterday we had a lot of rain -- hurrah!
 

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