Costa Rica: It Rained

Our last night at Samasati Nature Retreat, it rained. It started once we were all safely tucked inside the shelter of the Tempest Pearl House, and continued through the night.

We retreated to our beds, and it rained.

Thunder filled the air from time to time, and it rained.

The little one sought the safety of Mom and Dad’s bed, and it rained.

Morning came slower than it had other days, no howls and shrieks of primates, no bright sunshine filtering through the windows. Just the sound of water pelting the tin roof, and the smell of fresh water in the forest.

And it rained.

In the very early morning hours, I move to the rocking chair on the upper deck of the house. I love that deck, with its simple bamboo rails and endless view, jungle giving way to beach, succumbing to ocean. This morning I see only a few rows of trees, then a thick, misty fog that reminds me of movies about gorillas.

The rain falling on leaves catches my attention, takes on a meditative quality as I sit. I watch as each drop seems to fall individually, not a shower of rain, but a single, isolated drop, shaking a single, isolated leaf. For several minutes, the storm is reduced to this one space, the impact on this one leaf.

I am reminded of a story our guide told us when we were hiking through Cahuita National Park, of how the ants have evolved organs that warn them of changes in barometric pressure so they can get the colony inside before the rain hits. Even though they can carry up to fifty times their own weight, the drops of water are too heavy for them, he shared.

Watching this leaf, thinking of the way the ants marched in long rows carrying a small, carefully torn piece of leaf each, the magnitude of the rain seems to different, so immense.

I watch the drops a few moments longer, then go downstairs to wake Ella. We lean over the railing of the lower deck, pointing out animals to each other – a gecko with a bright orange head, tiny red frogs, a green lizard that blends into a green leaf, a black bird, a toucan – and just enjoying each other’s company.

Then she donned a green rain jacket and borrowed an umbrella to head down to a 6:30 am yoga class, and once again I was alone.

And it rained.