There is something beautiful and comforting about rain to me. The rhythmic sound of the rain drumming on the roof or pelting against the windows. The heavy smell of rain in the air prior to a shower is almost heady and certainly aromatic.
At one time in my life , some thirty years ago , I lived in the woods for months at a time doing forestry work for private companies. It was like going back in time two hundred years. A time that I think I would feel more comfortable in than the current one in which I find myself trapped.
Life was so simple and beautiful. I lived and worked on a mountain in Tennessee for several months , living in a tent ,cooking meals on an open fire , working on the mountain with my loyal dog Conan.
Every morning after breakfast and before the sunrise Conan and I would climb the mountain to go to work. Chainsaw strapped to my back and water jugs cinched to my waist we would climb.
At a certain point we would stop and sit down to rest and every morning we were afforded the best seats in the house to a glorious spectacle. All we could see were the tops and peaks of other mountains. The mist filled the valleys like a sea and only the mountain tops were visible. It looked as if you could walk or swim to the neighboring peaks.
At night , exhausted from the day , we would cook our meals clean our areas and lay back and talk about “what ifs”. The dogs , with their appetites sated , would lay around the fire or curl up with their owners and doze warmed and comforted by the contact.
Nothing can compare with the sound of the rain in the woods. It is musical. It is a tranquilizer .It comes through the trees with the light sound of a cymbal and drums against your shelter. When it is over there is the fresh smell of the earth that can not be captured or bought or sold anywhere else. The prisms of color through the droplets clinging to the leaves abound and everywhere you look you see the power and the beauty of the Creator.
When a job was finished and I would come back to civilization I was lost. My mother would always invite me to church with her knowing I had not had an opportunity to attend an organized service. I would try to explain to her that I worked in church every day. Not in a church of mortar and stone made by man but in Gods church untouched by man.
That is were I always have felt and do still feel closest to God. The woods. The mountains.I have worked and lived in places so remote and pristine the animals did not run from you.They considered you part of nature and I was proud to be conceived in that light.
Well , I am too old now to climb those mountains like I did , though I would still try given the opportunity. So I look wistfully to the woods and smell the heavy scent in the air recognizing the familiar scent and think to myself , let it rain.