Listening To The Rain

I woke up this morning at my usual early hour even though it is my day off.  Force of habit, I guess.  Only this morning there was the sound of rain on the roof.  When I woke up I sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the lamp and sat there for a couple of minutes listening to the rain and decided I would lay back down and listen to it some more.  It brought back some pleasant childhood memories when the gentle rain would fall on the tin roof of our farmhouse in Mississippi.  Occasionally the roof would leak and we would set a pot on the floor to catch the rain.  The sound of the rain dripping in the pot only added to the pleasantness of the moment.  I suppose if you were an adult, it wasn't very pleasant!  When it rained it meant that you wouldn't be plowing in the field, or picking cotton, or pulling corn, or doing the wash in a big black pot outside.  It was a relaxing time in which you sat around the house and visited with each other and told stories.  I always enjoyed those moments.  I still do...just listening to the rain!