#175: The Sound of Summer Rain
A few thoughts on a rainy summer afternoon.
Drizzle, shower, spitting, hissing, pouring, raining buckets of cats and dogs, deluge, torrential, pelting, pitter-patter, sprinkling, hammering, splattering, drumming and pounding. There are so many words to describe rain.
The days I remember most vividly growing up in Santa Barbara were not the sunny ones, but the wet ones. For me, rain days were not gloomy and gray but ones to stay inside and color, read, and dream, and when it stopped I would run outside to find a puddle to stomp in.
Today, on this summer afternoon, the sound of rain outside my window is like a symphony of instruments playing high, low, loud and soft, in different rhythms and meters all blending together as it pours from the roof corners to splatter on the rocks below. I hear pitter-patters from the courtyard and a high hiss from the grass. The ferry whistle blows from the harbor below and the tempo of the rain slows just a little. The sky brightens and the smell…so fresh, so clean….just like it was when I was little. It must be time to put on my boots and find a puddle.
If you like the rain let me know by leaving a comment or clicking on the little heart below.
Good Morning, Kate...from W.V. We did not expect rain last night....it had been a blistery hot day- but during the night, boom, thunder and lightening and Blessed rain!! This morning, all my cushions are soaking wet...as I left them all on the chairs! But who cares? soon the sun will be out and they will dry. Like you...I have always loved a rainy day...it gives pause, time to read, to listen to music, to pray, to think. But in my earlier years it meant getting to work...rain or shine! Those days, I was a nurse and it just meant I would smile more and try to comfort those who would not be going out in the rain. Thanks for your "visit" this morning. I am always thrilled when I see your newsletter!
I love the rain, too. It rained a little bit here today. I was born in Santa Barbara! My mother’s family all lived in Solvang. How funny is that.