A Spring Rain

The sound of Chuck Swindoll speaking lured me from my slumber.  Reaching over to turn off the alarm, I became aware of another sound; the sound of rain hitting the skylight.  Every ounce of me wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, staying far, far away from the rain.  The excessively long and rainy winter has taken it's toll on me and leaving my warm bed to run in the rain ranks right up there with a root canal. 

I get up.

Opening the slider door and stepping out onto the patio, I enjoy the last bit of staying dry as I stand under the eave of the house.  It is surprisingly warm.  The towering, massive evergreens show no movement in their branches letting me know there is no wind.  Rain in my town rarely comes without wind; this is a welcome change.

My run begins with a slow and easy pace.  Monday night's workout is still felt in my legs and shoulders. With each step I feel the stiffness dissipating and the fluidity returning to my muscles.  Even with the falling rain, the run feels good.  The rain is almost warm and I realize I don't mind it as it gives affirmation that spring may have finally arrived.

The raspberry fields have recently been tilled and the rows of budding green leaves sprouting off each raspberry bush look stark in contrast to the rich, dark brown of the soil.  Further down the road I pass the farmer's expansive field which is sprouting vibrant green grass soon to be cut and placed into hay bales.  On the other side of the field, about a mile away, my eyes follow a milk truck traveling down a road on its way to a dairy farm to pick up the farm's daily production of milk.

A small light cascades from a kitchen window of an old two story farm house; wrapped by a front porch that invites one to sit and sip lemonade while watching the world go by.  Soon the home owner, an electrician, will leave there, climb into his work van and head off to work and wave to me as he passes.

The smell of clean clothes emanates from a dryer vent  on the side of a modest home.  The house is quiet sans the evidence of the early-rising mother doing laundry.  The smell reminds me I will need to start laundry when I get home.

I turn down the road that will take me home, my 6 miles finished.  The neighbor's garden is bursting with the bright colors of tulips and daffodils. The rain has not let up and I am soaked from head to toe.  I do not mind.  Birds are singing their morning songs, the temperature is warm enough for me to be running in a skort and the scenery showed me winter has finally bowed out and allowed spring to emerge.  Today's run was amidst the gentle warmth of a spring rain.

And to think I would have missed all this had I stayed in bed.