It’s pouring rain here tonight and I find I’m restless as I sit and listen to the splatter of the drops as they hit the pavement.
I realized the other day when I was walking with Dev along the lake path that I miss my childhood excursions into the north lands that are also known as cottage country.
I paused for a moment to study the field that was overgrown with golden rod and trillium and a multitude of wild flowers, and the aroma was so strong that it awoke in me childhood memories of my uncle’s cottage and my favorite past time there.
On rainy days when all other cottagers are hiding indoors, playing at cards or sitting by the fireside, enraptured of some great novel, I would be dressed in full rain garb and splashing along the lane ways, playing in puddles and enjoying the solitude afforded on such miserable and yet to myself, such utterly delightful days.
The wild life was more subdued on those days, but the bird calls still sounded, and to myself they seemed all the stronger, and I enjoyed to hear their cheery little tunes. As I made my way down the lanes the squirrels and chipmunks would scold me endlessly, angry that someone would dare to venture out on such a damp day and ruin their carefree collection of nuts for the winter.
But I cared nothing for these little creatures, or at least I should say that I cared less for listening to their warbles and chatter than listening to the rain. I loved, no I say I love listening to the rain as it falls. There is something in the soothing sounds of a raindrop falling among trees, and hitting the ground that sets me to a calmness that I enjoy.
In the city the sound of the rain differs greatly from the sound of the rain in the country. In the country the rain makes a gentle swish or hissing sound as the drops descend on the leaves in the trees, the sound punctuated by the few drops that manage to land with a splatter on the ground underneath.
In the city the sound of the rain is more complex and varied, for in the country there is only the flora and the fauna, and perhaps a simple building which may lend the sounds of clatter or clanking to the auditory enjoyment of the rain.
But in the city it’s much different, in the city the sound of the rain in the trees is diminished and at certain places, almost nonexistent.
Here the clatter and clanking of rain on hard metal and buildings is thick, as the cars parked on the streets, the eves on all the houses and even backyard barbecues add the din. The rain falls on the concrete and asphalt that makes up the urban jungles and the sound of rain striking these surfaces is a dull splat that no enjoyment can be had from. The cars add a squishing, annoying type of noise as the whizz along, their tires on the wet streets causing the squelching noise that I find at times to be comforting only because of it’s familiarity, and not because it adds a pleasantness to the symphony of a rain shower in the city.
Since that day when Dev and I were walking along the lake path I’ve given a lot of thought to the sounds of rain and the wonderful happiness it has created in me on many occasions and my thoughts have created a strong sense of longing, and a great sadness because as a child I was able to get such enjoyment out of a simple rain shower in the countryside, and my own children have never been ones to firstly enjoy the rain and second they have never had a stay in the country and so have never had the pleasure to stride through lane ways that are surrounded by trees and other flora while the rain falls on them, the countryside and teaches them the wonderful fun of listening to the magical world around them instead of just passing through it.