I Revel In the Rain

I walk out of the coffeehouse about to walk home. Home’s about a 1/2 mile away. There’s a steady evening rain coming down. Lacking a jacket, I drape a blue cotton scarf over my shoulders, take off my cap and set out.

I revel in the rain. It feels nice as it is coming down with ease. I see a street light, walk to one and position myself so the pole blocks the main light. I am left with an aura of light. This allows me to see the falling rain more clearly.

Standing outside the barn door I look up to see the rainfall. A floodlight is attached to the barn, an old A-frame style that is common throughout the Central Valley. There are two major sounds; the engine that drive the pneumatic system, and the “ch-ch” sound of the pneumatic system driving the suction of the milking machines. Secondary sounds include cows going to the bathroom, stanchions being opened and closed, and milking machines being attached to the surcingles wrapped around the cows girth. (This stabilizes the machines under the cows udder to give her a proper milking)

It’s my first real job on the farm. Letting the cows in. When one of Teresa’s cows is finished milking and is let out, I let a cow in….a cow who has an orange grease stick mark on her haunches. When Catherine lets two cows out I let two cows in who have green grease stick marks on her haunches. Teresa’s cows are orange. Catherine’s are green. Two colors are given out to “balance” the herd and to make sure they finish milking at the same time. The marks are on the haunches to also make us aware of when a cow is in heat. A female will mount a female. While nothing can happen, the marking does rub off showing us that it is time to breed the animal.

The cows are soaked having been standing in the rain throughout the night. They are uncovered in either corral. I am eight years old. I wear black rubber boots, blue worn-out courderoy pants, a t-shirt, a sweater, a zip up hooded sweatshirt and a rain-jacket. While I am covered I am also wet. In letting the cows in I’m I am always at the edge of the barn. Halfway in. Halfway out. The further we are into the milking the more I have to go out into the corral and rain, separate the oranges from the greens, and direct the appropriate color into the barn. I am wet. And my clothing is splattered with wet cow manure.

My hood is down because love the rain. I like leaning against the pole next to the door and looking up at the weak floodlight seeing the rain fall through it’s aura……drizzle, easy, hard, cloudburst. I revel in it because watching the rainfall is like being in a dream. A neutral dream. Enchanting. Mesmerizing. Transcendent, Watching the rain makes me feel good. Not being graded. Not being yelled at. Not feeling stupid. Not being judged. Not feeling ashamed. I revel in a quiet joy even as I wear wet, worn, manure-stained clothes.

I revel that my hood is down and my hair is wet. An easy rain allows me to do this. I revel in the feeling of my hair after the rain. Soft and clean. With my hood down and knowing my hair can only dry after we are done milking, I can’t wait for us to be done and I am dry, in the house lying in my belly in the living room warming my feet in front of the heater.

I continue to walk in the direction of home, Cap off, I walk slowly, stopping every now and then to position myself behind different standards and poles to watch the rain fall though the aura of light. I wonder if rain makes sound before it hits any hard surface. I think of a favorite line of mine from Bucky Fuller….

“You can’t argue with a raindrop”

I think how you cannot count the amount of raindrops that fall at any given time….. how many raindrops did fall today???? Billions? Trillions? More?

The kid in me comes out reveling in the fact that I’ve found another question that no one can answer.

I arrive home. My blue scarf, pant legs and brown clogs are drenched. My hair is wet. I feel clean, alive and grounded.

Rain is a revelation.