Posted tagged ‘drops of rain’

“This morning’s scene is good and fine, Long rain has not harmed the land.”

October 2, 2015

I never did get around to changing my bed, a nap got in the way. I guess I’ll have to do it today to complete my list. The only problem is I haven’t the energy and I certainly don’t have the enthusiasm. Bed changing doesn’t engender any.

The rain stopped for a bit yesterday afternoon so Gracie and I left for the dump. When we were about half-way there, the rain started again just as I suspected it would. That always happens. It rained all the rest of the day and all night. It is still raining, and there is a wind strong enough to sway the tops of all the trees. The weather forecast in the paper this morning said rain for the next three or four days.

On rainy days my first grade cloakroom was always dark. The walls were made of wood, and there wasn’t any light. When I’d walk into my classroom, all the lights seemed as bright as the sun. The only noise in the classroom was the rain beating against the windows. We spoke only in whispers. I can’t explain why, but it was as if the rain had muted our voices. I was always drawn to the rain on the windows. I’d follow a drop all the way down until it got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared. The nun and my classmates were background murmurings to the rain. That was the year I watched the rain.

My fourth grade classroom was on the second floor. The long windows looked out only to the sky. I was in the last seat in the first row. I had a panoramic view of the whole room but couldn’t see the windows behind me. That was the year I heard the rain.

In the eight grade, my classroom was on the second floor of the new school. My seat was right beside the windows. I could see the whole school yard and the road beside it. I could hear even the smallest drops of rain hit the windows. I could look out and see the rain falling sideways in sheets blown by the wind. Other times the rain fell straight down in a thunderous deluge. The misty rain fell gently, quietly. That was the year I could see and hear the rain.

“Nothing reminds us of an awakening more than rain.”

September 5, 2013

I venture to say today is a bit cooler than we’ve been used to of late. It is only 69˚. The rain clouds are back and there is a breeze, from the north, seldom a good sign. My house is dark.

Today I have a few errands and Gracie gets to come with me. Her waiting in her crate days while I venture out are nearly over. In the cold of winter, she gets to ride just about everywhere as I don’t mind leaving her in the car. Next week Gracie has her older dog vet visit. That comes six months after her well-dog visit. She’ll have blood tests and a general physical. I hope all will be well.

It has just started raining.

I loved my old elementary school classrooms when it was raining. The ceilings were high and the windows facing the schoolyard reached  to the ceiling. Watching the raindrops on the windows was somehow mesmerizing. They’d hit the window then roll down and finally disappear. The sound of the rain filled the room, and we always seemed a bit quieter on rainy days. The classroom lights hung down on long wires, and even though they were lit, the room always seemed a little dark. The crafty teachers placed the desks so our backs were to the big windows, but the side windows could be seen from anywhere. The view was of trees and shrubs and a house close to the school, separated only by a fence and the drive-way size entrance to the school yard. The back door of the school faced that little road. I sometimes slipped out that door at the end of school to avoid the crowds exiting the main door. The nuns didn’t care. Once the end of school bell was rung we were on our own.

I always got soaked walking home from school in the rain. My feet would squish in my shoes, my clothes got wet and my hair dripped. I never carried an umbrella. I was never the umbrella type. But getting soaked felt liberating in a way though I wouldn’t have known that word back then, but that’s what it was. I didn’t have a choice but to walk so it was like having permission to be wet even in my school clothes. Sometimes I’d hold out both my arms and raise my face to the rain. I’d close my eyes so I could feel the drops on my face. I know I fell in love with rain on those walks home.


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