Sounds of Summer
August 30, 2012 § 2 Comments
This may be anathema to some who prefer cloudless days spent floating on the rippled surface of a lake or ocean, but one of the most joyous sounds is rain, especially in the South where the threat of drought is ever-present. It’s no mistake that the word rough hides in the middle of that word.
I appreciate summer showers in their many forms: the pitter patter, the galloping of cats and dogs, the thick drops that remind me of that scene in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids when the sprinkler switches on. I’ve danced in the rain to celebrate its return after weeks of absence. As kids, my brother and I didn’t cease our fort-building or swimming for the rain, unless there was lightening. True, the rain often spoils our outdoor plans, soaks our jeans, makes our hair frizz, but in the heat of summer I try to receive it gladly. (Even on the weekends.) Ripe tomatoes, peaches and blueberries need it too, and I’m happier the bigger and juicier they become.
The rain brings with it at least the illusion of cooling off and the welcome shade of clouds that gang up on the sun for at least an afternoon. It stills the dust and quiets the crunch of scorched grasses underfoot, replacing a blistering sky with a cool, smooth piece of glass. If the sun shouts, assaulting the senses, then the rain hums and whispers, enveloping in an entrancing quiet.