The rain is falling. It seems to have washed away the fog of yesterday, when all day, there was a wonderful mist hanging in the air, throughout the land. It was the kind of fog that moved and floated here and there, as if precipitated by spirits. In very low places in the terrain it was thick and would settle, but above ground it actually looked like groups of little clouds, roaming around.
Today is darker. As I awoke and heard the rain, words came to mind, to describe the sound it makes, when it falls. It’s ‘raining cats and dogs, or buckets’. In Spanish, ‘Llovió a cántaros’. A ‘cántaro’ is a clay jug, that keeps water cool. The sound of the rain depends on what kind of roof it falls upon, and the speed and force, and contact it makes with the surface on which it falls; it could be wooden shingles, corrugated metal, of slate or grass, smooth or perhaps, even plastic. If it’s a good roof it will keep the water out. This morning the rain isn’t pounding or beating on my roof, it was simply falling at a normal pace, not fast.
Rain is good. It melts the snow, so we can see the ground, where crocuses, or tulips will begin to show. In the spring, it supplies water for planting season. One thing’s for sure, ‘Baby, the rain must fall’, which is going to be the case, all day long.
On Tiffany Creek 