I nearly had a heart attack today brought on by the shock of a sunbeam streaming through my office window, piercing the chilly clamminess in which I've worked for the past several weeks. It flitted away all too quickly and by the time I exited the building I was once again slogging through the rain, toes all too soon squishing against soggy soles, under the perpetual gray sky that has shrouded D.C. for what seems like weeks. I know it's good for my flowerbeds and shrubs. I know it's keeping the pollen down and alleviating my hubby's seasonal allergy misery. I know I'll be whining about the lack of showers come the dusty, droughty dog days of August. But right now I am sick and tired of this pluvial weather!!!
Not my friend Eric, however, who suggested pluvious to me, another adjectival variation of the term. Looking it up, I half-expected to discover that pluvious or pluvius (yet another accepted spelling variation) was the name of some minor Roman god of rivers, floods, or downpours. According to some online sources, Pluvius was one of a multitude of epithets attached to the big guy himself, Jupiter, the chief god of the Roman pantheon. Makes sense given that Jupiter, or Jove, was depicted as lord of the skies and hurler of thunderbolts. These sources suggest that drought-stricken Romans would pray to Jupiter Pluvius to send rain and relieve their suffering. Does the reverse work? Can I send him a prayer asking him to cut it out already?
According to the OED, however, the root of pluvial is merely the Latin pluvia, meaning rain. But pluvial doesn't mean just rain. It means lots of rain. Characterized by rain. Heavy rain.
Pluvial is a term more likely to turn up in geographical or geological contexts -- e.g., "there were two pluvial periods in the Pleistocene." I doubt Willard Scott ever uttered the term during one of his Today Show weather forecasts slash centenarian birthday shout-outs.
Checking the weather forecast for tomorrow: oh, surprise, surprise -- more pluvial weather! But there's the promise of at least a little sun in the morning, maybe even into the early afternoon. Maybe I'll be visited by that happy little sunbeam again, at least for a few minutes. Right now, I'll take every second's worth of sun I can get.
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I'll let Langston Hughes answer for me....
ReplyDeleteLet the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/videoitem.html?id=6
I am with Mark on this one... Seattle here we come!!!
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