A rainy morning is one of my favorite starts to any day. Sun is easy to enjoy, not so much rain. I could hear the drops starting just before I went to bed. We’re talking around three this morning. The rain was singular, drop by drop, no deluge. It is the same now. I’m still waiting for the predicted nor’easter with its heavy rain and strong winds.

In this house, we are all creatures of habit. When we wake up, the dogs and I, we hurry downstairs, me to open the door and the dogs to run into the yard. I have at least two cups of coffee and some toast. The dogs enjoy a biscuit and a small treat. After their treats, the dogs have their morning nap time, one on each side of me on the couch. Meanwhile, Jack cries for attention, and he gets his morning pats and a treat. I then read the paper and do all the puzzles. Writing Coffee is last.

I take my time writing on rainy days. I watch out the window at the wind blowing the leaves, and I sit quietly in the house so I can hear the rain. I warm my hands by cradling the coffee cup. I am cozy and warm.

When I was a kid, I always got really wet on rainy days because I walked to and from school. I’d have to sit at my desk waiting for my wet shoes and wet hair to dry. On chilly, rainy days, the radiators used to hiss steam. The classroom windows got foggy from condensation though I didn’t know that word back then. I’d watch the drops roll to the sills. Rain subdued classroom sounds. Mostly I could only hear paper rustling and the squeaking of chairs as we tried to get comfortable. Even the nun seemed to whisper. We ate lunch inside and had no recess. We could move around and talk during the whole of lunchtime. Afterwards, getting back on task wasn’t easy. I was an afternoon clock watcher. I wanted out.

In Ghana, I couldn’t teach on heavy rainy days. The classroom block had metal roofs. A heavy rain pummeled the roof and drowned out any other sounds. I did board work and gave my students written lessons. My house too had a metal roof. I loved the sound of rain on that roof. It surrounded me. The back room of my house had a big screened window, no glass. That room was where my kitchen table and chairs and the fridge were. A big rain storm would often flood the floor which was concrete and painted red. Over time, the paint started to wear away. That’s what I remember.

This entry was posted on May 22, 2025 at 1:18 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.