Singing in the Rain

Rainy days are always a treat on board.  Well, okay.  Rainy days in the tropics are a treat,because it is warm outside.  Rainy days in, oh, I don't know, New Zealand, when it's Christmas and it's freezing and your in-laws are visiting and a gale is blowing and the anchorage is too bumpy to take the dinghy to land and you're all stuck below decks for five days and all you do is cook and peel excited children off the ceiling and cook and brew more tea and cook and cook... those days aren't my number one choice.  But warm + rainy = fun.

Back before we had a watermaker, we used our huge awning as a water collection device.  We clipped funnels in the lowest corners of the awning to port and starboard, and ran hoses to the deck fills.  Erik had fancy bits of mesh installed at various points along the line to keep out anything unwanted.  During the rainy season, we always had full tanks of clean rainwater.  Delicious.


But we had to compete with the kids for the water.  Whenever we heard the familiar pitter patter on the cabin top, they dropped what they were doing, grabbed bathing suits, and shot out through the cockpit.  Armed with a cup, they could entertain themselves for hours out there, scooping, drinking, and throwing water around.  They were even sensible enough to wear lifejackets when things got windy - anything to keep from hearing the dreaded words: "Time to come back inside, ladies."

No one ever gives me anything to drink.

Showering, cruiser-style.

We recently clicked over to autumn in Adelaide.  (Autumn in April - I can't get my head around it.)  And along came the fall weather.  Rain came down in buckets on Good Friday.  Stylish was off camping with a school friend; Erik was working.  Indy and I were left glumly looking out the window.  I felt like we were in the opening page of the Cat in the Hat.  She was getting restless and we were out of indoor ideas.

"Sorry, honey," I said.  "It is too wet to go outside..."  I stopped.  What utter nonsense.  What was I saying?  I put an arm around her.  "Want to go puddle jumping?"

Indy dashed for her rain coat and rain pants.  She doesn't have boots.  Hmm.  No problem - peel off the socks, put on flip-flops.  And out we go!

Puddles, puddles, puddles!

She jumped in every puddle we could find.  And when that got boring, she made a potion in a mud puddle.

Just a little more dirt...

How easily we could have missed out on all that fun!  I don't know what it is about being on land that puts me back in that "no" frame of mind.  Maybe it is watching preschoolers squirm in their seats during craft time at Library Club as their parents snatch the crayons away and do the crafts for them.  Maybe it is overhearing moms and dads swap tales of doing their kids' homework as they bustle into Stylish's school at the end of the day to pack the kids' bags.  Maybe it is the depressing realization that no one over the age of six ever visits the local playground.

There are lots of things to say "no" to on land.  But playing in the rain isn't one of them.