C: The Comfort of Drizzle

rainflowers I guess it’s all in how you look at things…I woke up this morning hearing the rhythm of rain outside.  I knew it was coming.  I conned MIL into going out for spaghetti last night (enough left for lunch!), and it was beginning to drizzle as we made our way home.
This morning it isn’t the heavy storm type of rain, just a notch up from a drizzle; just enough for me to hear it.  It made me want to snuggle down in the bed, although I feel rested.
But, here I am at my early-morning computer session, listening to the pattering outside.  My on-line thermometer tells me that it is 50 degrees F outside, so it isn’t cold.  But the rain makes it feel cold…and the rain sound makes it feel like cold weather is coming.  It’s almost like it sounds different from sound of summertime rain.  This must be early-morning rain crazy, right?
Anyway, I’ve been sipping hot coffee, got my winter fuzzy houseshoes on, and my big, warm robe.  The dogs are contentedly snoozing rather than asking to go out.  And the sounds of winter coming outside are not bothersome to me but, rather a comfort.   Why?  Winter is easily the hardest season for me out here, what with power outages and muddy driveway, and on and on and on.
Still, there’s comfort. 
I think it is the comfort of rhythm.  Over my more-than-half-a-century-of-life, my life has developed a certain rhythm.  The Good Lord knows that during the last few years of my life, that rhythm has been violently interrupted, but things have calmed now.  I’m regaining that rhythm.  It helps me anticipate what lies ahead, to move ahead with the family holiday traditions I’ve come to love, to know that the challenges and coziness of winter are coming, but that spring is just behind it.    The-Road-Ahead
I know this road.  I’ve traveled it before.
As I thought about the sounds of rain, I remembered a scene from Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen (this is in the book, not the movie that I can recall--and the book is better!!):
Karen had discovered that the Kikuyu tribe who lived on her property knew nothing of poetry.  She began to make up poems (nonsensical ones that relied only on rhyme and meter) in their language and recite them. 
The Kikuyu would gather around, silently and solemnly, listening to her.  They did not know of spoken cadence—as opposed to singing.  They were enchanted and would often approach her to ask her to recite. 
And train2he way they would ask just thrills me and seems so apropos to this morning:  “Please,” they would say, “Speak to us in the  language that sounds like rain.”
And so, in a little juxtaposition, I can say that this morning’s rain sounds like poetry to me .  The harbinger of winter is warm and comforting.
Let’s see if I can sustain this attitude as I drive through it to work…C

Comments

Vee said…
Oh you've described it so well...everything, the rain, the cozy early morning, the scene from the book, and the coming winter.
Vickie said…
C, your whole post this morning sounded poetic. Can you recite something to us in Kikuyu? tee-hee

I know what you mean. I've been snuggling down when at home this week, too. We've had the same, just-above-a-drizzle rain - that good soaking rain that we've been needing for months now.

I'm ready for the cold, I guess, cuz I know that after that the spring comes again. Routine and seasons are good.

I love that movie. I have the book, too, but have to start over...
happyone said…
I love the sound of rain too. If it's early in the morning though, I'm listening to it on my umbrella! :-)
Well, I think this soaking rain last night and drizzle all day may have ended our drought. Just wish I could have stayed in bed all day!
I love that passage from "Out of Africa"! I love words, language, and especially poetry.
Stick Horse Cowgirl "V"
Zuzana said…
Loved this post...
Rain in November, when the skies turn dark and the air grows cold has a soothing tranquility about it. The rhythm of the rain indeed makes us think and brings a certain melodic enchantment into our days.;)
xoxo
Anonymous said…
I love days like that. The pitter-patter of rain was here, too, but I didn't hear it so poetically. Love your metaphoric prose. I love reading your blog.
Joy said…
Well, I loved the movie, I should read the book. I know what you mean about the comforting sound,especially if one is in their own snug home.

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