I was sitting here this morning drinking my coffee when I begin to hear the metallic ring of raindrops hitting one of the roof vent covers. It is a pleasurable sound for sure since we are in such desperate need of rain. But it also gets me to “remembering”.
When I was a kid, the farmhouse hadn’t been finished, meaning that the boy’s room didn’t have any sheet rock on the walls or ceiling. So you could look past the rafters, through the attic, straight up to the underside of the roof. It was great when it rained cause you could hear it loud and clear! There is just something about that “pitter-pat” on the roof that can loll you into the most satisfying sleep.
I would just snuggle down into that feather bed and listen. Maybe there would be an occasional crack from lightening or the roll of thunder. But the sounds would bring about pleasant dreams. Evan as a kid I realized that those gentle rains were a source of revitalizing one’s “inner-self”.
When a little older and living on the ranch in Kansas, on a rainy summer day I would sit out on the front porch. Just sit there listening to the rain fall through the leaves of the big elm tree that stood just off the edge of the porch. Now that could lift the burdens off a guy’s shoulder and give him time to reflect on his blessings.
Did you ever notice how rain muffles outside sounds such as a distant train, highway noise or airplanes flying over? Even the birds quite singing to listen I think. It seems in the same way to muffle the problems and worries that sink into our lives and take over our thoughts.
I have seen where they sell tapes of different sounds to help “soothe” or perhaps induce sleep. “Ocean Sounds” “Bird Calls” “Mystic River” etc. But I tell you, rain on a roof or rain on the leaves of trees will do it best! Something about rain just cleanses the soul.
I remember too, milking cows out in the barn during a rain. The rain hitting on that tin roof would just nearly sing to you. Each cow would come into the barn, dripping wet, so you would take a burlap feed sack and wipe off all you could. Then grab your milking stool, sit down at her flank with a bucket between your knees and start squeezing. That song produced by rain hitting that tin roof even relaxed the old cow so she milked easier.
BUT, that “song” was sort of like the mythical song the Sirens would use to lure the sailors to their demise on the rocks along the shore. Eventually she would take a relaxed “swat of the tail” and wrap that coarse haired, wet, mud-filled (and other things) tail switch right up beside your head and bring you back to reality!
Oh well, at least this morning, I am going to sit here, listen to that little metallic ring of the roof vent and enjoy my coffee.