Happiness and the Atmospheric River < The Happy Monk Baking Company

I realize the recent “atmospheric river” event caused much damage to property and lives. I saw YouTube video footage of rivers of brown water gushing down driveways in West Vancouver, where I grew up. An earthbound river surged through carefully manicured gardens, pounding homes, flooding basements. The frightening power of nature.

Jennifer and I sustained no harm to our property here on South Pender, though we had that sense of endless rain. Part of our driveway was underwater for several hours, but it quickly drained away once the rains abated.

Transformation

During the downpour, we enjoyed the sound of the rain on our roof. In the evening, we set a fire, the place was cozy, we were safe in our warm home, and we went to bed. In the morning, seeing what had happened on the Lower Mainland was a shock.

Most who live in this rain-soaked part of the world dislike the rain and the relentless grey of late fall and early winter. But it also brings transformation, as in the story of Noah’s Ark, and even Indigenous legends, such as The Mount Newton story, Lau,Welnew

Burrowing under blankets

Growing up in Vancouver, those long winter stretches of grey skies and constant rain didn’t seem fun, admittedly. The shooshing of traffic over slick roads, the mucky lawns, and torrents of water, pouring through the gutters, dripping off trees. You’d feel cold and wet, just looking out the window. It made you feel like burrowing under blankets, sipping heavy soups, a mug of tea or a glass of dry red wine to warm you up.

But we’d make it through, and when the sun appeared, we’d celebrate with a bounce in the step, a quicker laugh, a leisurely stroll in the park. The grim weather and feeling of being shuttered inside vanished and we felt a new lightness of being.

Being reborn!

On Saturday, we stayed home and let the rain fall all around us. I began a new book on the Kindle: This is Happiness by Niall Williams, whose 2014 novel, History of the Rain, was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize.

I haven’t finished This is Happiness yet, but barring unforeseen circumstances, I would urge you to try it. The American author Ann Patchett enthusiastically recommended it. I’m enchanted by the narrative for reasons other than Patchett’s enthusiasm, though I agree with her that it is a beautiful novel.

This is Happiness

The first few paragraphs were ironic, given the atmospheric river we were experiencing when I began the book. The setting is a village in County Kerry, Ireland, but could just as well be the rain-sodden west coast of Canada:

It had stopped raining.

Nobody in Faha could remember when it started. Rain there on the western seaboard was a condition of living. It came straight-down and sideways, frontwards, backwards and any other wards God could think of. It came in sweeps, in waves, sometimes in veils. It came dressed as drizzle, as mizzle, as mist, as showers, frequent and widespread, as a wet fog, as a damp day, a drop, a dreeping, and an out-and-out downpour.

It came the fine day, the bright day, and the day promised dry. It came at any time of the day and night, and in all seasons, regardless of calendar and forecast, until in Faha your clothes were rain and your skin was rain and your house was rain with a fireplace.

It came off the grey vastness of an Atlantic that threw itself against the land like a lover once spurned and resolved not to be so again. It came accompanied by seagulls and smells of salt and seaweed. It came with cold air and curtained light. It came like a judgement, or, in benign version, like a blessing God had forgotten he had left on.

It came for a handkerchief of blue sky, came on westerlies, sometimes – why not? – on easterlies, came in clouds that broke their backs on the mountains in Kerry and fell into Clare, making mud the ground and blind the air. It came disguised as hail, as sleet, but never as snow. It came softly sometimes, tenderly sometimes, its spears turned to kisses, in rain that pretended it was not rain, that had come down to be closer to the fields whose green it loved and fostered, until it drowned them.

All of which, to attest to the one truth: in Faha, it rained.

But now, it had stopped. Not that anyone in Faha had noticed …

Slow transformation

The story is about transformation. Transformation that is so slow you might not know what hit you until years later. An old man looks back on his youth, recalling a time in the 1970s when the village of Faha was finally connected to the electrical grid. Several characters are also on the verge of transformation as if the introduction of electricity lets them see themselves for the first time. They move from an old world into the new. The town and its inhabitants open their collective eyes. The story is told in detail, describing how the village and its inhabitants change.

“Winter is coming!”

That lightness of being we experience when the sun re-appears, the weather warms, or when grey trees turn green feels like a triumph. We’ve survived something! Are we really that primeval? Are we still so affected by the weather in this day and age?

I loved the phrase, “Winter is coming,” adopted by the House of Stark in Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. (footnote)I read the first three books of the Thrones series and didn’t watch the TV series. I didn’t have the stomach for it — I’m too squeamish! (/footnote) It was spoken with foreboding as if the (potentially) long winter meant inevitable hardship, cold, lack of food, and possible death.

The sun also rises!

I like to utter the phrase myself around this time of year. I know the Tru Value is just up the road. The liquor store, too. Maybe we won’t starve, chances are we’ll survive. But life may be a little barren for time.

I’ll wait for that first hint of Spring, the first patina of colour in the trees, the first trickle of warmth. The ebb and flow of life is the only constant. The sun also rises!

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Transformation

Burrowing under blankets

Being reborn!

This is Happiness

Slow transformation

“Winter is coming!”

The sun also rises!

happymonkbaking

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