Writers' Pantry #61...Rainy days always take me back to the rainy days of childhood, still vivid in my mind. Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United, March 14, 2021
“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down”, but not me! As early as I can remember, I’ve loved rain. In our part of the Illinois prairie, you could see the spring rain clouds building from miles away over the vast flatness, their skirts billowed out like great clucking mother hens. By the time they reached the far edge of the corn field beside the house, you could see the leading edge of the curtain of rain. The distant patter on the corn leaves crescendoed to a wonderful rat-a-tat as the first big splats set off spurts of dust in the barnyard. Ah, the wonderful earthy, fresh, sweet smell of rain!
Summer storms were wonderful too. Sometimes the distant sky turned almost black, the clouds rolling and tumbling, shaking themselves free of lightning bolts that arced to earth over the dark green field, the distant rumbling thunder building to bone-jarring cracks that accompanied spectacular electrical displays as the storm moved overhead. Majestic. Magnificent. I don’t remember fear, only awe, and somehow reassurance that I was part of a greater scheme of things. While I’ve lived my adult life in cities, rainy days always take me back to those prairie rains.