Listening to the rain as I fall asleep must be one of my most favourite simple pleasures…
ever since I was a small child…
and in every rainy weather condition,
stormy steamy tropics;
cold Southern Victorian Coastal Winters;
monsoonal showers that wash away roads and turn every West African city’s lights off.
Just that sound of rain hitting a roof, especially a tin roof,
especially especially a corrugated tin roof…
Oh the pleasure.
That pitter, patter, splatter, turn heavy, lightly, heavy, lightly.
Maybe a little thunder and lighting.
Maybe a little leaking, wind making every thing creaking.
Like the house and the sky are speaking.
I lay there, snuggled under doona, or sheet, or wet towel (depending on the temperature).
A breath deep.
Allow every skin pore to feel that goose bump triggered.
Raining, on a roof. Pleasure. Simple, beautiful, pleasure.