Its Friday, I've completed another work week. I have the weekend before
me, and I did have lots of plans for that time. Only now of course it
is raining. That means no yard work, not unless it decides to stop
raining (and it isn't supposed to do that), or unless I don't mind
getting wet. Even if it does stop raining the leaves that I haven't
raked all fall and winter will not be mulched by the mower as I had
hoped. If I do anything, it will be in the flower garden area and with a
rake not the mower. I really do want to get started on that if only Ma
Nature would cooperate a bit here.
But, since its raining,
and its dark (at this writing it is 8:13pm) I won't be doing any work
outside, but I can share some rain stories from here on the Dirt
Road..aka the Mud Run during times like
this.
I love summer showers, not so much thunderstorms but
those sudden rain storms that appear, dropping rain here but not there,
fast and furious or slow and easy. I've driven down the roadways to run
in and out of rain or watched it fall on one side of the road and not
the other. I've even seen the white lines of the road be the stopping
point as the rain fall stops right on the line going no farther.
As a young person growing up here I remember knowing when the rain was
coming. The sky could be this beautiful, crystal clear blue, not a cloud
anywhere but the trees gave warning of what was coming. Looking at the
trees the area would be darker, the colors of the leaves more intense as
they turned over. The air would grow quieter as all the woodland
critters took refuge from what was coming. Soon, you could hear it
approaching, the rain falling on the leaves on the trees and the dead
leaves under them. You
had two choices, take shelter, or enjoy the cooling off the rain would
bring from the heat of the summer sun.
Our Grandfather
was a collector. He would bring home some of the most interesting,
useable stuff. His yard was never cluttered or trashed, there was a
place for everything, but he always allowed us to make use of the things
he brought home. Like all of those sheets of metal. I have no idea what
they were intended to be used for, where they may have came from or
what his plans were for them. For us, they made great clubhouses. With
careful precision we could stand them up and begin our shelter of the
day. Building them as one would a house of cards only bigger and a bit
more heavy. Each sheet had a line of holes directly down the center
which meant careful layering to prevent leaks. It was a treat to be
inside one of the clubhouses when a shower would come up. Listening to
the rain as it struck the 'roof',
hearing the drumming music that it made was mesmerizing. There was
something special about having that privacy, a bit of secrecy even
though all we were doing was sitting on the sandy dirt inside, out of
the sun.
Grandfather also built a large open shed behind
his workshop. One end was open so he could simply drive his tractor in
and out without hassle. At that time there wasn't any worries about
anyone bothering his things. We all knew each other on this road then as
there were only five families here. Times have changed. I stood many
times at that entrance and watched the rain falling, watering the
garden, cooling the temperature down a bit.
One thing I
have always loved was to take hikes in the woods on our property. There
are several small creeks that run through it, more when there is plenty
of rain ( such as now). Behind our house, down at the bottom of the
hill there is a
small gulch. During the dry times, it is dry. When we've had a rain
storm, that gulch becomes its own creek. The land slopes downward, so
the rain water starts at the main road and follows the gulch down
through the woods until it reaches the pond and then once the pond is
full to overflowing the water moves on through the woods, filling the
creeks as it goes. If there is enough water I can hear it falling from
my back yard.
There have been times when I've been walking
only to get caught in a shower. Dad built a covered shelter down at the
pond. The tin roof is wonderful to sit under and watch as the rain
falls and strikes the surface of the pond sending ripples outward.
Raindrops hitting the surface of water has a totally different sound
than anything else. Away from the pond if the rain isn't falling too
hard I can take shelter under the trees, listening to the rain as it
strikes the leaves. At times, I can feel the rain as it rolls
down from leaf to leaf until it falls to where I am standing. I've
walked along parts of the Dirt Road where the tree top canopy reaches
out and entangles creating a covering that protects those under it from
the rain. Once again walking and listening to nature's music. Of course
those hard showers that can penetrate the canopy creates the puddles
that I loved to wade through then and still do to this day. The feeling
of red clay mud between your toes gets in your heart and stays there.
As a youth, and now as an adult, I love to open the windows and listen
to the summer showers falling. There is no better stress relief. Forget
your pills, forget those self medications such as alcohol, forget that
hot bubble bath- well no, lets not forget that, it works well also--but,
the sound of falling rain is magical. Stress and frustration melts away
leaving all the good memories in its place. I may not get
to work in my yard tomorrow, but I will get to sit on the front porch
with a cup of coffee and watch the rain falling. All the while
remembering ... with a smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment