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Community Comment

Sun., Sept. 19, 2010, 4:41 p.m.

Rainy days and Sundays…

Good afternoon, Netizens...

I live in a culture of noise. Unfortunately, most of that racket is man-made, stuff like cars, the television, radio and conversation in between. On days like today, when it rains out-of-doors, I cannot hear it fall, with the possible exception of the distant noise as the rainwater comes down the gutter downspout, and only then if I have a nearby window open. However, although not at their utmost best, life is good these days.

There was a time many years ago when my personal times were much-harder than they are now. I was living in a converted bread truck north of Spokane in Dragoon Creek Campground eking out an existence by whatever means necessary. I actually had a delightful environment, with various kinds of wildlife wandering through my camp each day, and a creek that flowed right by my campsite that chuckled and laughed to itself as it wove its way through the campground. I cooked meals on a cast-off Coleman stove that had broken DNA, which would refuse to light on days when the ambient temperature fell below a certain degree without a blowtorch. I had enough money to pay for a campsite and a few groceries and a tank of gas a week, and that was about it.

There were certain advantages to my subsistence living back then, as distant a concept as that might seem. I would awaken on most mornings to the sounds of songbirds eagerly broadcasting their joy at the rising sun and fields of grain to eat and on those days when the campground was largely vacant, I could sit at a rustic picnic table in the ambiance of the great outdoors clad in only jeans and sandals. Since I had boxes of books in the truck, I could read whatever I wanted almost any time of the day.

Several years later, after I had moved into my cabin above Springdale, I found I also relished the sound of the rain on my metal roof overhead.

But I felt some of the greatest joys of living there alongside the creek on rainy days when visitors were either limited to occasional. I would build a neat country fire in my Franklin Stove, open a book and sit sublimely content inside my metal cocoon with the fire crackling and the sounds of raindrops falling on the metal roof overhead.

On rainy days, such as today, I miss that isolation, listening to the rain on the metal roof, despite how good life may be now.


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Spokesman-Review readers blog about news and issues in Spokane written by Dave Laird.