That was my Facebook status update yesterday. It has been truth before, it will be truth again, I am certain.
The thing is, down here when it rains there’s this sound. It is so very hard to describe and I’m certain that only a few of you will understand it, or perhaps have a place, or maybe just the memory of a place, that the rain sound fills you – the way it does for me here.
The roof isn’t insulated – so when it rains you hear each drop hitting the shakes and each drop combined with all of the others falling makes this sweet natural music that reminds me of being “stuck in the cabin” with Grandma and Grandpa and my brother Rob (back when we called him Robbie) on a gray and rainy day… playing cards. Grandma drinking instant coffee as black as night and Grandpa with his little Brown Betty tea pot beside him. Eating fried up scones that Grandma made…
Playing Crazy Eights.
Honest to God. A rainy day here may be filled with comforting ghosts and sound and scent memories, but it will always be better than a sunny day at work.
With love across the waters,