Meditation on rain clouds

Mist on the mountains. Rain clouds dark grey, pregnant with the promise of heavy pouring rain, waiting for their water to break - to bring forth their children - mist, drizzle, downpour, soaking, running flooding - rain. agh. In the lexicon of fantasy ( and so many other genres) the dark rain clouds loom, enclose, intimidate and breed a certain stoic kind of human. But we are all stoic in some way - in the desert it is to be dry-tough. So what about misty mountains brings forth this image? Perhaps it is the appearance of indifference to the wet air that would steal our human warmth, bringing our heat down to a chill cool fish-like level while still we keep our fires burning. To live in such a climate breeds a type of Man that will always seek the path of least resistance, working down and around all obstacles until enough have joined to create the mightiest force of nature - the flood. Strong, we no longer avoid the obstacles but envelope them and push them under and away, destroying and renewing. Hadrian's Wall could not contain the Picts, the Great Wall did not stop the Mongols. What wall are we to destroy next?