Rainy Days

I've loved rainy days for as long as I can remember. Not only are they nourishment to God's green Earth but they have sights, sounds, and smells that are so appealing to me.

Some of my first memories are of my Grandfather and I playing in the rain. Mom and I lived with them right after I was born so that Dad could work for Old Uncle Sam in the Marines for a few years. I can remember my Grandfather dressing me up in my slicker and rain boots and taking me out to the yard and street to splash in the puddles. He was a "hard scrabble" man and earned his reputation of being rough around the edges, but his laugh was intoxicating for his grandchildren. When we played in the rain, he was a kid like me. I think he was enjoying some of the childhood he was never allowed to have.

After Dad did his time under a crew cut, we moved to Raymond where I grew up in a house with a million windows. Mom and Dad designed it and Mom was claustrophobic. Therefore, we had big, beautiful picture windows everywhere and none of them had drapes. (We lived on nearly three acres so there was no worry of people "looking in" on us.) The house was a modified A-frame design which meant rooftop from ground to apex. More than half of the exterior seemed to be roofing shingles. It was like something you'd see on a ski slope but in the middle of Mississippi. It's no wonder my Dad loves to go skiing now. He lived in a ski chalet for nearly 20 years!

When the storms blew through the lovely berg of Raymond, our house was a symphony of sights and sounds. There is no sound like that of rain hitting a window. It has a rhythm and timbre that has always done my heart good. And with our walls also being part of our roof, it made some beautiful music throughout our home.

Summer storms are the best in the South. It really is like watching God's fireworks. And you could feel the electricity when you were outside playing and got caught in a thunderstorm. If there was a strike really close, you could taste it and that sensation stayed with you awhile. I use to take Mae (my sister) upstairs when she was little and we'd watch the storms come in from the northwest. We'd sit in the den and enjoy the show as the rain filled up the puddles in the backyard and the wind whipped the pecan trees with all its might.

My Dad and I hunted at Kings Flat Hunting Club in Jasper County. It was a great place to grow up and to learn how to hunt. It was serious hunting, but it was driven by the desire to be a family place. No alcohol, no renegade hunting, and plenty of music and great cooking. We had a simple, sturdy cabin that we lived in while we were there. We built it ourselves and it was good craftsmanship.

I really enjoyed hunting. It was a real experience and the deer were abundant in Jasper County so it was almost always exciting. But... there was no feeling like waking up at 4:30 a.m. and, upon hearing the rain on the tin roof of the cabin, rolling over and going back to sleep. The deer weren't going to be moving and the hunting could wait until after breakfast, at least. It was, without question, a gift from God.

In my former professional life, I was a baseball coach. It's a hectic world and I felt like I was always on the field doing something. If we weren't playing or practicing, we were grooming the diamond constantly, it seemed. It's a world that can wear you out if you don't take time to rest. But, when the rains came, we couldn't do much on the ball field. I fondly remember sitting in the dugout, watching the drops fall from the roof, and realizing that I have a great excuse to stop and take a breath.

Rainfall can be soothing. It can be cleansing. It can be healing. Throughout my live, a rainstorm has been an opportunity to be still and rest. It is a gift.

I love rainy days.