“The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach.”

– Henry Beston

It’s raining.  Again.  More accurately, it is still raining.  We missed the launch window a week ago when we could have mowed a dry lawn; and the small window of opportunity to cut it while no rain was falling left a 30 by 50-foot patch out back that resembles a mohawk — clean-shaven on the sides and long in the middle.  I have been out of touch with the great elemental sound of rain since it has been replaced by the desperate whimpering of a housebound puppy who misses his lingering walks through the park.  In quiet moments, I have checked the creases of my elbows and knees to assure that no mold is growing there.  Vague memories of warm, sunny days drift through my mind, but before long they are replaced by the harsh reality that the rain continues to fall.

Unable to be contained by the weather for another minute, I decided to cook dinner on the grill last night.  It is nicely protected by the open porch on the side of our house, so I knew I would be grilling rather than steaming.  Just as I put the food on the grate, there was a downpour of rain.  I closed my eyes and listened to the way it danced on the street, the leaves, the grass, and the roof over my head.  I smelled its fresh, clean aroma as every speck of dust and pollen was washed away from every surface.  Suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, the shower passed and there was a break between clouds that allowed a bit of sunlight to shine on the sparkling, wet world below.  I could almost hear the plants sighing as the moment of warmth drew their leaves upward and let the raindrops spill from their branches to the ground.  The kiwi vine that grows on the side of the house has been sending out new growth in preparation for its flowering season.  As it swayed and sighed in the breeze, something marvelous caught my eye.  There, on the new shoots of the kiwi vine, the rain had created a beautiful string of pearls; and they glistened in the late afternoon light.

In an instant, all the thoughts of mold and confinement and housebound puppies became insignificant.  All I could think of was t he way the blessed water falls on the dry earth until it overflows every spot it touches.  How on earth could I ever feel cranky about rain?

I close my eyes again this morning and listen to the great elemental sound of the rain falling all around.  In the beating of my heart, I hear another great elemental sound — the sound of gratitude, overflowing like the rain, and washing away the dust from every corner of my soul.