Rainy Day On the Porch

I'm sitting on my porch listening to the rain. It whispers through the air, gurgles down the downspouts, splashes happy against the ground. Little raindrop footsteps stomp all over the porch roof, running, dancing over my head. Daughter is out in the wet grass, letting go the garter snake they found and caught a week ago. It seems happy. She is happy. I am too, here on the porch in the rain.

I love porches. On the porch I feel the air move, breezes blow my hair and slide warm and soft along my skin. On the porch I listen to the birds, watch the sun travel through the sky.

Or like today, on the porch I feel the rain without getting wet. The porch shelters. I smell the rain and feel the dampness in the air. The grass drinks up and sighs contentedly, and so do I. Rain releases tension, like breezes do, like a massage releases tension.

Cars riding on the wet road make a different sound than when the road is dry. Every rainy sound joins with the next to make a restful music of nature and wet. Rain music. A robin sings just now, the lilting melody that robins do. Nothing like it. It fits in with the rest of the Rain music, a little descant.

If I were inside the house, I would be missing all this music. All of it. I would be busy with things-I-ought-to-do-inside. But on the porch, I see, and hear, and feel nature. And I relax. It's like being on vacation.