My relationship with rainy days is complicated. These days were characterized by the awkwardness of finding a place to put my drenched umbrella, deciding which clothes I didn’t mind getting wet, and carefully navigating puddles. When I complained about the rain, my mother would ask “Are you made of paper?” Yet, I enjoyed that there was a cultural expectation that you should relax on a rainy day. Even in the notorious city that never sleeps at night, where I was raised, it was acceptable to rest and mindlessly enjoy a movie marathon as the rain thumped against your window. 

The night I flew from NYC to London, it rained. I was worried that my flight might get canceled but the weather reports had exaggerated what was nothing more than a drizzle. Six days later, it has rained almost every day in Cambridge. A random rush of water will come from above and dissipate after a few moments. Two days ago, I sought cover from the rain in a TK Maxx (the British equivalent of TJ Maxx), and by the time I’d made a loop around the ground floor, the rain was gone. The locals seem to be completely unfazed by the unpredictability of the weather. I’ve seen them comfortably continue to enjoy their afternoon tea at an outdoor table of a cafe as it rained. I almost felt embarrassed to walk around with my purple umbrella and tucked it into the sleeve of my black denim jacket. 

This morning, I checked my weather app and discovered that there was a 0% chance of precipitation. I felt that today might be a good day to journal at my sit spot to record what the environment looks, feels, and sounds like when it isn’t raining. The Pembroke College “campus” is small, it takes five minutes to walk from one end to another, so it wasn’t difficult to find a place where I could journal about nature. There are six lawns on campus: Old Court, Red Buildings Lawn, Library Lawn, Foundress Court Lawn, The Bowling Green, and Croquet Lawn. However, undergraduate students are not allowed to walk across Old Court or Bowling Green. That privilege is reserved for Fellows. I’m unsure of the tradition behind this rule but, it is most likely to maintain the image of the College. The lawns are well-manicured and kept in pristine condition. It reminds me of when people buy a limited edition figurine that they refuse to take out of the packaging, preferring to keep it in its original condition rather than play with it. 

My sit spot is on a bench in The Orchard on campus. I am sitting here in my fall uniform: a layer of Vaseline on my face, an oversized black denim jacket, a thick scarf, leggings, and boots. There are two small murky ponds next to me, covered with algae and small leaves. The ponds are so green that upon first glance, I thought they were small sections of grass. The leaves of a tree fern hang over me, granting me unnecessary shade and a curtain of privacy. When I open my eyes, I am surprised to see two squirrels. Why did I ever think that all squirrels were American? They scurry away quickly when I try to get a better look at them. I wonder if they are also forbidden from walking on the lawns. The contrast between the unkempt ponds and the polished lawns surprises me. Yet, I am glad that the ponds are allowed to peacefully accumulate debris. I am glad that they haven’t been drained or filtered yet. It reminds me that nature, left by itself, can give you a beautiful lesson. I feel that I will receive many lessons this semester on how to embrace disorder and unpredictability.