For those who are familiar enough with my habits to know that I really like to track things on spreadsheets, I feel the need to clarify that I didn’t actually keep count of the number of rainy days. Instead, I googled, “how many days did it rain in toronto last year,” and that’s how I came to learn that it rained 115 days in 2021.

I was curious about this because there was a time when my mood was severely impacted by the weather. I got mad at the wind. I felt sad when it was overcast. I hated our cold slushy winters. Most of all, I complained a lot about the rain. When my friend very reasonably pointed out that we needed the rain, I groaned in protest. “Why can’t we have weather like Monterey? Rain every morning, then beautiful the rest of the day. Why does it have to rain when I plan to be outside?”

This went on for years until someone I barely knew completely changed my perspective.

After I left my full-time job, I signed up for a free memoir-writing workshop at the library. This was around a year before the pandemic, so we were still gathering in person. As I sat around the table with my fellow workshop participants, each of us taking turns sharing our writing, one person read a piece that struck me.

I wish I could recall her exact words but general concept was around sunny days having many expectations of us — to go out, to be productive, to do stuff. Whereas rainy days held no such expectations. This was only a short portion of her stunningly poetic piece, but the idea resonated so deeply that I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her words had shifted something within me.

The next time it rained, instead of moaning about how unlucky I was and how put out I was by the wet weather, I tried relaxing into it. And I actually felt my body breathe a sigh of relief. I didn’t have to push myself to “take advantage” of the nice weather. I could stay in my pajamas and have a cozy day at home, reading a book or having a nap. The rain was letting me off the hook.

I’m writing this on a sunny morning in Elora, a pretty little town around a 1.5-hour drive from Toronto.

When I was planning our time here, I noticed that it was forecasted to rain the entire week. My past self would have been terribly dramatic about this, feeling woe and misfortune closing in on my holidays. This time, instead of letting myself become anxious and resentful about the forecast, I let it go. The rain was giving me a reason to schedule fewer things and sink into deep relaxation.

Rather than filling up our travel itinerary as I usually did, I made a loose outline for the week with only one optional item each day for us to do, or not do: Sunday brunch, an afternoon massage, a distillery tour. I added two library books to my luggage. I decided to consciously make time for my writing. I saved my May Hello Writer pack to open at the Airbnb. I picked out a delicious magazine to purchase that was all about sleep. My past self might have thought that this would be a waste of my vacation time, but my more current self felt like this could be a perfect week — cozy, restful, and restorative.

Although it was forecasted to rain all week in Elora, in reality, it’s barely rained at all. It drizzled a bit on Sunday morning and perhaps it rained at some point when we were napping, but otherwise, the weather has been beautiful. We’ve spent a lot of time outside — taking short hikes, eating ice cream, enjoying my birthday dinner on a patio. We plan to go treetop trekking today in glorious, partly sunny, 18-degree weather.

The number of days of precipitation in Toronto last year was pretty average, and perhaps 115 days is reasonable in the grand scheme of things, especially since “rain” can turn out to be a barely-there drizzle or a light dusting of snow. But 115 days works out to around a third of the year, and that was a lot of time for me to be upset about something that was completely outside of my control, and about events that might not have materialized anyway.

It might still rain while we’re here. In fact, it’s forecasted to rain most of Thursday, Friday, and even Saturday. Instead of worrying about it though, I’m excited for the possibilities that open up when the weather turns. Maybe we’ll have time for that movie we’ve been wanting to watch, maybe I’ll sink into one of the books I packed, maybe I’ll open Hello Writer. But that’s for another day. For right now, I’ll simply enjoy today.