As I write this all conversation is drowned out by the thunderous roar of the rain on the metal roof above my head. It is the type of rain where windshield wipers cannot keep up, where much rain is harvested off of roof tops, and where stepping outside for a moment means being drenched to the bone. It is the type of rainstorm that you hear coming not necessarily by the thunder, but by the sound of the rain falling on the trees in the distance. It is a beautiful sound.
A cool breeze blows in one of the few windows still open.
This afternoon we had a good rain (though not as glorious as this one), and I got a treat. If it rains hard enough for long enough, my front porch (smooth cement) becomes like a slip and slide. Last year there was much laughter and cheering when I joined the kids in this endeavor, and I feared that I would not get to enjoy it this year. I am glad that I can say that I remembered the technique from last year and my hip bones remain unbruised.
So I sit contentedly listening to the rain as I prepare for the last day of training number three (which is going very well).
2 comments:
MMMM I miss that sort of rain. And I miss you. We'll have to go camping when you cross the ocean again... you, the broham, the fiancee and me. Oooo sounds like fun to me.
come home.
or.
come to washington in a month.
that's a good plan too.
can't wait to see you!
~hmb
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