Don't get me wrong, rain this time of year is not really welcome on a farm. Rain is not exactly conducive to getting the last of the crops out of the fields. But this morning, as we were milking the sound of the rain falling on the uninsulated tin roof of the freestall barn took me back to when I was a young girl and heard it for the first time.
The details are kinda (okay, REALLY) fuzzy, but I do remember the confusion at the sound that I had never heard, as it got louder and louder. I don't know who it was that enlightened my young, moldable brain, (probably Grandma) but ever since that moment I have had a love affair with that sound.
Not being a 'regular' at the farm anymore, that sound is not something I hear on a regular basis. But, this morning, as I helped my brother while my parents are on vacation, we were 'blessed' with several mini down pours. (I happened to be in the pasture bringing cows down during one such down pour - weather-1, kellie-0)
As I stood below the roof and that wonderful sound, I was reminded of the years growing up and the simple sounds that are no longer regular parts of my life...like the sound of the 'crick' (notice I didn't write creek) babbling just mere feet away from the house, or the equipment sanitizing washer running shortly before every milking, or the cows mooing in the stillness at dusk, and of course...
...the sound of rain on a tin roof.