The word in Spanish for rain is lluvia. It’s a happier word than rain, don’t you think? I stepped out of a building last night to discover pouring, neck-drenching, street-flooding rain. Yet as I walked home I found myself smiling. It wasn’t the cold rain I’m used to in Portland, the bone-chilling, sprint-dousing endless grey-sky rain. This is lluvia that refreshes, which I know keeps these lovely gardens green, where I know I will wake up to a blue sky in the morning. I found myself laughing as I walked home in this rain. It is so very different from that which I am accustomed. It makes me wonder about happiness and what we slowly accept as okay when, if we would only allow ourselves a change of scenery once in a while, we could wake up to blue skies every morning.