“Asking Stanford” is a series that collects bite-sized stories from students to highlight the diversity of experiences and perspectives on campus.

As a circa-to-Bostonian, rain is ever present along the East Coast. It has been the dictator of my spring and autumn evenings, an ever-present companion on my long runs, and one of the defining scents that makes Concord, Mass. feel like home. Rain at Stanford, on the other hand, has felt more like a novelty than anything. After weeks of skin-peeling dryness (at least by typical East Coast standards), the return to something more humid is a comfort to both my physiological and psychological self. Of course, it’s a bit weird as well: who the hell thinks of rain when they think of California? — Daniel Xu ’29

Rain in Florida is more than common, and often welcomed, as it foreruns cold fronts that bring us to a comfortable 68 degrees. Stanford rain, however, feels harsher. It means I have to put on a couple of extra layers in the morning and stock my backpack with napkins to wipe my poor bike seat, soaked in mucky water. Ten minute breaks between classes shorten to five as I frantically run through the rain, and my jeans get drenched in new showers just as they have begun to dry. Rain is one more challenge in my already hectic day, but it makes me that much more grateful for the lovely sun. — Megan D’Souza ‘29

As a Kansas City native, rain at Stanford always reminds me of home. The cool air and gray skies feel like a small echo of the Midwest. I’m not the biggest fan of rain itself, but I actually enjoy the cooler, cloudy days that come with it. There’s something grounding about these moments, they make me feel connected to the four seasons I don’t really get to experience here anymore.  — Joanne dePierre ’25 M.A. ’26

Rain at Stanford is one of my lowest lows. In my head rain is awfully romantic, a chance to spend a day curled up under a blanket with hot chocolate, listening to the rain patter along my window. Perhaps a chance of a rainbow, a splash in a puddle, and the scent of petrichor. But in reality, campus is frigid and I’m wearing an oversized rain jacket biking down Jane Stanford Way trying to squint through massive water droplets that pelt down. My jeans are wet by the time I get to class, and they remain disgustingly damp for the rest of the day. Maybe it’s a sign I’m a California girl through and through, unable to smile at anything but blue skies and warm weather. — Sharis Hsu ’28

The Stanford rain is peaceful for me. It’s a refreshing contrast to the Stanford grind that is always in our faces and consumes nearly every facet of the student experience. While the broader student experience is defined by things like rushing between assignments and putting up the facade of doing ‘just fine,’ I see rain on campus as a calm to the storm. It feels as if those lovely little droplets peppering my dorm window reach into me and gently hug my panicked mind. I can slow down and listen for a change. — Sebastian Strawser ’29

Rain can feel romantic with a capital R, with enough imagination, good friends and semi-decent pair of headphones. As a kid, I loved watching the raindrops racing down the windowpane and picking one to root for. When I got older, I learned to enjoy walking home from school with friends, or by myself while listening to music and savoring the air after the rain. I can forget that the reality of rain in Toronto is much more bleak, where an early spring rain, combined with melting snow, can line entire sidewalks with sludge. The same imagination that got me through rainy days back home is getting me through the rain at Stanford. In my dorm room, I studied while the rain rapped on my window, “Rain in Jiangnan” playing in my headphones. While rushing out to two different meetings, my roommate and I ran into each other and took pictures of each other with our patterned umbrellas. Beneath a prematurely dark sky, my friend walked me home while we tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid the puddles that flooded the parking lots. I have already forgotten how cold it felt and how wet my socks were. I still remember us laughing hysterically, clinging to each other for warmth, and making a memorable day out of a miserable downpour. — Grace Liang ’28