April showers bring...

flooding in Evansville and the surrounding areas.

constant comments regarding the uniqueness of the seemingly unprecedented rainfall.  These comments usually go like this:  I don't ever remember it raining like this.

ceiling leaks and buckets on the ground.

running to your car wondering at the same time whether running makes you any dryer as compared to walking through the rain.  As the faster you run the less you may be hit from the top but the more raindrops you would theoretically run into spreading the wetness around your body more evenly but still, looking out at the rain as you gather the courage to go out into the rain you still know running is the only thing that makes sense.  Sprinting towards your car, knowing you look like a fool and if anyone is watching they are laughing at you, feet slamming into puddles and splashing and feeling the wetness in your sock and hearing the slushing sound until you wring your socks out later.

large restaurant crowds, apparently.

the relief of stepping outside and not hearing rain and walking and yet looking towards the grey sky knowing the inevitability of the rain yet still.  Seeing the gray skies and feeling the cool wind and watching the tree branches still blooming swaying and wishing this pre-rain weather, this anticipation climate event, could just last forever.  More so than the clearest blue sky.

the transformation of the world through the flooding of previously unnoticeable patches and fields of grass.  Driving my car and seeing through my periphery movement where there was never movement and looking and seeing gentle waves where there was once grass.  A road once bordered by grassy fields now bordered by black water, and in the dark it could just stretch on forever.  The transformation is far different than the one snow brings, with it's days so bright one could get a sunburn in freezing temperatures and a nighttime full of detailess forms on the horizon, everything blending into the darkness of the night.

night skies that look ripped in half.  One side the black sky and across the diagonal line that separates the two skies a solid sheet of clouds that seem to streatch on forever in the horizon, a storm system that missed you, a sight one wishes could be captured or shared as easily as less beautiful things.  But maybe it was just beautiful in the moment.  And maybe April showers just bring soggy grass and shirts with dark spots scattered about and leaks and rain damage and headaches and low moods.

but mostly May flowers, I suppose.