I’m loving the sounds of the falling rain.
Its been raining softly for a while now. So much that, when I opened the door for the dogs, even though it is one of those slow, gentle rains, the dogs looked at me like, “nope” though they did eventually go out. For me though, sitting here with the windows open, listening to the sounds its magic in motion. The child in me is wanting to go outside and play, which in all honesty, I haven’t ruled out yet.
This has me thinking about other things, and how amazing they can be. Bear with me for a moment as I allow my inner child out to consider the wonders around me.
Some of the falling raindrops linger on the leaves of the foliage. Walking underneath, can result in an impromptu shower. Which on a hot day is enjoyable, on a day like today, simply fun. This rain is a slow, soaking rain. One that will do amazing things for gardens and lawns. If I walk down to the pond, I will be able to hear the rain drops striking the leaf canopy above me, but still be somewhat sheltered. Once down at the pond, I can sit in joyous peace and watch as the rain plays its own brand of music on the surface of the water. Every ripple spreading outward until joining its neighbor. At times, should the rain seem to stop or be stopping, the tree frogs will begin their clamor for it to continue. If it rains long enough, the puddles will begin to form. I live on a dirt road. I grew up on this road. As a child, after a summer rain forming the many puddles in and around, the fun would begin. We would be sailing ‘boats’ of all types. Sticks, leaves, acorns, the hulls of the fruit of the Passion vines. If it would float, it was a boat.
Then there is this amazing thing about mud. Especially the mud that is the results of rain water mixing with Carolina red clay. The feelings as it squishes up between your toes as you dance and play in the puddles. The amazing things you can create and allow to dry in the summer sun. Sitting under the tin roof of a clubhouse constructed in the yard. Smiling at the drumming sound while you remain dry. right up until the rain starts sneaking in under the walls. Let the imaginative fun begin.
One oddity about living in the south, rain can be selective. I’ve watched it rain on one side of the road and not the other. That yellow line a barrier of sorts. I’ve driven down a road and driven in and out of showers. I’ve driven down and road and saw the wall of rain ahead of me that seemed to be waiting for me to arrive. But it isn’t just rain that can be this amazing wonder.
How you can walk through woods that seem eerily silent during the day. Few birds calling, maybe a breeze passing through rattling a few branches, otherwise its quiet. At night, its magic. Lightening bugs (fireflies) dancing among the trees, bats among the upper branches, an owl or two calling from the distance. You can hear the rustling of the leaves as deer, possum, racoon or what ever other visitor may be passing through. Knowing that these are the normal for here, that other places have amazing visitors of their own. How would it feel to watch an elk, a bear, buffalo wander by? How would it feel, to stand on a hill and watch a herd of wild horses or buffalo thunder past below you?
Do you ever wonder, how it must have been like, when the land was less civilized? How beautiful and wild it must have been? I won’t lie, I’ve been caught standing mesmerized watching butterfly, bees and dragonfly dance in the summer sun. Each only seeking the means to survive, but all the while creating an amazing ballet among the offerings of the landscape.
I think often of how everything fits and works together. The rain watering the earth so the plants can grow. The pollinators visiting the flowers, one after another, spreading the very thing that will incite the plants to produce. There fore helping to provide what humankind needs to survive. The sun coming out to dry the land and the cycle repeats. Or should, man in his supposed wisdom and attempts to make things better, often causes harm but that’s another conversation.
I want to be childlike in my wonder of this life. I want to stand amazed at the rainbows and Northern lights. I want to look at the forest and see the trees. I want to dance in the rain and play in childlike wonder in the puddles. I want to be amazed at the small things that we tend to overlook as we rush about our day. Not far from where I live, there is a river. My son loves to tell me when he sees the turtles that gather on the fallen logs. We watch for the groundhog that stand on the side of the road, seemingly watching the cars pass by. I want to watch in awe at the amazing acrobatics of the squirrel along the tree branches or many wires crossing roadways.
I want to see faraway places and the wonders they hold all their own. The landscapes, the waterfall, the animals. I want to meet new people and learn of them. I want to see and live the differences and see how they all, in their own way, fit together. Even as I may never set foot on a different soil, I can take the time to learn about life around the world.
I want to stand in the wonder of this gift of life, I want to dream and envision and appreciate this wonder and wonderful place in which we live. How amazing, how perfectly amazing is the untouched, unaltered areas of the world in which we reside? Can we not understand that a place this amazing should be protected as well and enjoyed. Can we not realize the damage we have done, and seek out ways to repair the damage and protect the rest? Can we not, as children at heart, stand in awe and appreciation, of the gift and the wonder of it all?