It’s hard to explain, but I really can feel the weather — not through forecasts, but through little signs.
I look at the leaves, the sky, how the wind suddenly quiets…
But most of all, my roses tell me.

Their petals grow slightly heavier, as if they sense the moisture in the air.
They go still. Yes — roses can fall silent before rain.
I pass by them, take one look, and I already know: it’s going to drizzle today. Soft, cool, and real.

I don’t use weather apps. I don’t need to.
I live in rhythm with nature. I don’t wait for the weather — I feel it. 🍃

When it rains, I don’t hide — I listen.
It’s not just water from the sky. It’s something that washes the mind.
It rinses away old hurts. It wears down the stones of patience.
Under the rain, it’s easier to just be. No masks, no schedules, no rush.

After the rain, my roses bloom differently — like they’re breathing deeply.
And I breathe with them. 🌸

Maybe that’s what happiness is — knowing when the rain will come.
And not being afraid to get wet. ☔