Rain...

Physics and meterology tell us it is the change in barometric pressure that we first sense, regarding the immenent rainfall. The clouds are liars when it comes to predicting just the moment when it will rain. However, if you pay attention you will sense the change in the atmosphere just before it rains. The barometric pressure drops, you can see and hear more clearly, and your sense of smell is often exaggerated.

But something else detects the rain first...something that is difficult to find a definition of, or an explanation for. I suspect it is some ancestral or vestigal ability. It is perhaps one of the few unbidden moments of Zen-like intuition that does not require meditation, but merely existence.

The rain begins. Most often just a few over-achieving drops that have surged ahead of the crowd, desperate for their cataclismic arrival on Earth. Sometimes the intensity builds, and other times it is like the softest of cloths, smothering you in some kind of aural embrace.

I sit at the edge of the deck, listening to the various sounds as the rain strikes different surfaces in the back yard. The deep thrumming of the rain falling off of the roof onto the large broad leaves of some unnamed plant, the soft and consistant drum against the wooden deck, and the various flat, untuned barks as individual drops collide with various rocks in my back yard.

The temperature actually rises ever so slightly when it rains, as this exchange of energy pays homage to the laws of thermodynamics. But my pulse usually slows, as I focus on hearing each raindrop.

Finally, when I feel the moment is just right, I close my eyes and begin to walk between the rain drops...