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Sibilant Drumming

A gentle rattle awoke me, alien to my senses. It'd ben so long. Could it be?

Yes, the rain was back.

We've been in a moderate drought and it was good to hear rain falling again, a sound and spectacle I'd taken for granted.  

My wife and I had watched the weather forecasts this week as the temperatures trickled lower and light cloud cover shyly stole into the sky.  Would we get rain? It sorta coulda kinda looked like it maybe could possibly happen. 

Thirty percent, the forecasts proclaimed Wednesday for Saturday's prophecy.  Bah, thirty percent means that we'll see clouds but not moisture in our part of the civic realm. We don't usually experience rain unless the forecast reaches forty percent. The Rainbird responded overnight:  sixty percent before midnight Friday, fifty percent the next morning through noon.  I was excited, my wife less pleased.  The SOPride parade is today. She didn't want rain on her parade.

But the rain is here.  After feeding the cats, I slipped out into the yard and stood in the shower, relaxing in the cool, soft beads striking me, getting drunk on the smell and the sound.  Others seeing me may have been disapproving - nah, probably not in Ashland, southern Oregon. Besides, there wasn't anyone else around.  It was six thirty Saturday morning.  They had other places to be.  Besides, it was raining. Didn't your momma teach you to get out of the rain?

She had, and I unlearned it.  

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