There was some thunder off in the distance this evening and the slight hint of rain in the air. It brings to mind the memories of staying at my grandmother’s home back in Nebraska. My grandparents had 15 acres left of their farm after retirement. I’ve written before about some of the experiences but this one came to mind tonight.
I recall sleeping in one of the south upstairs bedrooms. One with a feather mattress and a sloped ceiling leading into an attic storage area. There was a gas stove for heat in the winter and large, long, rectangular windows to keep things cool in the summer. On this June evening, one could smell the dirt in the fields, recently tilled. It’s a sweet scent when mixed with a hint of moisture. The aroma of the fields found its way into the room by the soft breeze blowing from the south that night.
The white sheer curtains moved in rhythm of the the breeze as soft crack of thunder began to echo off in the distance. As the thunder cadence became more regular and closer, the wind got cooler and the sound of rain began to pelt the roof of the house. Off in the distance you could hear the sounds of birds making their displeasure known of their interrupted sleep and the rain came down and the thunder and lightning rolled by.
The pelting of the rain and the soft rhythm of the wind, the rain and the smell of the freshness of a new season teased me into a soft state of slumber as I drifted off to sleep.
Many of you will probably scoff at this experience. Unless you’ve lived a summer storm on the prairie, it’s hard to describe. For those who have; you already know.