The rain has been pouring this evening. Plunk, plunk, plunk… as the rain lands on the metal tub sitting on the porch. It reminds me of the soothing sound of rain on a metal roof.
Sitting on a front porch and listening to a summer rain plunk on a metal roof. The porch swing chains creak as they carry it back and forth slowly, one foot lightly keeping the momentum going as the other leg is tucked underneath me. I can practically smell the purple in the vetch on the hill. Frogs near the pond jump from logs, land with a splash and add their own songs to the rain. I feel the bulk of my book; there is the weight of the actual bound print and the heft of the words resting in my hands. The words pull me in slowly, sinking me into the moment and bringing the lyrics of my book alive. The sounds of the rain bring backs lovely memories and I think of how our senses can be such a gift.