rainy day in barra town

Every screenwriter knows the trick.

If you want to change the mood on screen, change the setting. Especially, the weather.

And that is one reason writers simultaneously mock and admire Edward Bulwer-Lytton's "It was a dark and stormy night." Sure. It is purple prose. But it effectively sets the mood. Readers pick up on the cue.

Usually, the mood cue in Barra de Navidad is languid sybaritism. Sunny. Blue skies. Warm.

Luxurious? Certainly. But a bit tedious for moods.

That changed yesterday afternoon. Clouds moved in with a slight drizzle. The type of rain I knew in the Pacific Northwest. Not bad enough to prevent my walking exercise. But sufficient to create a beatnik bongoing on the plastic lounger.

It persisted through the night. Without a need for a fan or air-conditioning, I could hear its soft report on the skylight at the top of the shower's heat chimney.

And it lingers through the morning. Constant and soft.

That is remarkable only because we live in the tropics. When it rains here, the force seems strong enough to pummel motorcyclists from their mounts. The streets fill with the immediacy of a Jonestown flood.

Our rain is a gift from tropical storm Tara that is making its slow slog northwest a safe distance away over the Pacific. But it is close enough for us to have our own reduced Bulwer-Lytton moment. It is a bright and drizzly morning.

While the Atlantic has churned out killer hurricanes this summer, the Pacific has only given us here in Barra de Navidad a few glancing tropical storms or weepy depressions. For that we can be thankful. There are some dramatic mood changes we do not need.

But today is not a tropical deluge day. It is easy to imagine living in Oxford again. That may explain why one of the first things I did this morning was to brew a pot of rose green tea.

I now sit under my red-faded-to-pink umbrella watching the rain play on the surface of the swimming pool while listening to Beethoven's String Quartet No. 15. I thought it would strike just the right mood for the day.

Monet may have had his lily pond. I have a pool with ever-changing rings that emulate eternal lily pads.

And, on this day, that is sufficient for me.