I woke up to rain and cooler air. Outside, the little stream that flows through our front field when it rains hard isn't there. The rain falls steady, you can hear it soaking into the earth, almost see the greening in process as the roots drink and swell.
Often spring is too intense for me. The hum of insects, the feeling that beneath the surface things are pushing to burst forth, the winds -- building to a crescendo that, until it happens, seems unbearable.
This spring seems to be taking a slower pace, and today's rain, at least right now, feels like a long slow drink.
I can almost hear the soft patter of drops as I read this and look. . .
ReplyDeleteFunny how the slow rain is soothing to me but the horses seem more agitated.
ReplyDeleteKeil Bay was a tyrant at breakfast, Salina tried to kick him, Patch Pony had the Thelwell grump face, and even sweet Cody was kicking the stall wall as I dumped feed!
I have them munching hay now and listening to the spring money-thon on WCPE - so in between classical they're getting the plea for cash, but all in very very lovely soothing tones of voice. :)
You made the photo come alive. :) I heard the soothing sounds despite the scratch of sleet on the window here.
ReplyDeleteIsn't there a poem about the sleet scratching at the windowpanes like fingernails?
ReplyDeleteI can almost think of it but it's being evasive.
The rain has come down harder as the day progresses, but remains soothing nonetheless.
There's quite a stream flowing through the front field, but I can easily make a quite nice metaphor out of that!