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When the humid shadows hover Over all the starry spheres, And the melancholy darkness Gently weeps in rainy tears, What a bliss to press the pillow Of a cottage-chamber bed, And to listen to the patter Of the soft rain overhead!
"Rain On The Roof" |
After weeks and weeks of a long dry spell which evoked images of past bushfires, we've just had some steady drenching rain. I listenend to the pitter-patter of the rain falling on the tin roof while spending a supine afternoon inside "Melbourne" - ehem! - "Bonniedoon".
Whenever I hear rain falling on a tin roof I think back to my first real home, a humble beach shack at Cape Pallarenda north of Townsville, and even more of the construction dongas we all used to live in on the Bougainville Copper Project. To make the illusion more real, I framed two photos of Camp 6 on Bougainville Island and hung them on the wall.
Instead of reading the CANBERRA TIMES, I read "Roads to Berlin". Having read it, and with the rain still falling, I started on Robert Dessaix's memoir "What Days Are For". After all, that's what rainy days are for.
It's been absolutely decades since I last read the CANBERRA TIMES even though I'm now far closer to it than I was in New Guinea. And it's been decades since I last looked at photos such as the above wall decoration.
I still have that same travel alarm clock which always made sure I was twenty minutes early rather than five minutes late wherever I worked.
