“I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.”
~ Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
I woke to the sound of rain.
It was soft at first, a comforting patter of drops on the old iron roof.
It made me want to snuggle back under the covers, but meditation is so long a practice in me now that I eased my body up and crept quietly from the bedroom.
As I sat in the cool, dark pre-dawn of my tiny lounge, the light rain became hard.
The sound of the rain on the roof obliterated all else. It made its own kind of music, easy to get lost in.
When the sun approached the dark crescent of our world she stole the rain away.
Now the air is scented with earth and damp foliage. The sky is heavy with low cloud. And the last raindrops are being shaken from the leaves and branches. They fall in tiny tunes on the tin.
I shall make a pot of tea.
While the house slumbers I will write.
I love the quietness of these solitary beginnings. Just me, the birds, the clouds and the rain-soaked paddocks.
Up comes the sun.
Good Morning. I wish for you, and for myself, a day of deepening peace.
And to you, my friends on the other side of the world, sweet slumbers and soothing dreams.