The calming influence of rain

My old buddy insomnia stopped by again tonight. He thought it would be a good idea to do a little blogging. Always an instigator, he got me started but provided absolutely no inspiration. So here we sit, watching the little cursor blink and wink at us.  I'm pretty sure the cursor and insomnia are involved in a conspiracy to make me look even more foolish than usual.

A worn out Patricia has been dumping rain on us since yesterday. The blog room is on the second floor here at the homestead. It is the corner bedroom that faces the front of the house and the roof over the porch is right outside the window. I cannot see the wet shingles here in the dark of night, but I can hear the rain gurgling in the downspout. Watch out itsy-bitsy spider!

I have always liked being up in the early predawn hours. It makes a productive workday a bit difficult. By early afternoon I will want a nap. As a teen, I spent many late, late nights watching old movies or reading. Twenty-five years ago as a supervisor on third shift I usually took my "lunch break" around 4;30, then I took a turn around the production floor before starting the paperwork and preparing for the 7:00 am shift change.

How many times have I wandered around a darkened house or sat by a window listening to the sounds of silence while my wife and kids breathed gently in their sleep? On nights like this I live the Simon and Garfunkel hit. That song speaks to the insomniac.

I love listening to the crickets and tree frogs sing their lover's plea into night air or watch the snow fall gently in the soft light reflected from distant streetlights. Or, like tonight, I revel in the sound of raindrops tapping at the windows.

A pair of yawns pops my jaw. It is a signal to my unwelcome house guest to leave. Insomnia does not visit like he did in the distant past. I'm glad. Some old friends are better forgotten. Nostalgia aside, I have seen enough old movies. I know the creaks and sighs of the sleeping house well enough. I'm ready to go back to bed and the steady gentle snores of my sleeping wife. I need one more hour of sleep.