Am I Emotional Or Is It The Rain?

I love the sounds of rain. Rain can ting, ping and swish. It splashes on the road when a car drives through a puddle. The different sounds of rain can be beautiful,filled with emotion. Of course, rain isn’t full of feelings, but its many sounds impact us in innumerable ways.

For example, when it is raining and I am in the barn, it tings and sometimes even sounds like rocks are falling from the sky. It makes me feel excited. The rhythm sends my heart sailing high and, I have to admit, I often want to dance or, at least, sway.

When I’m home and it’s raining hard, I wish I was asleep in my bed, listening to the rain tell its story with every ping and ting.

A gentle rain puts me in a soft mood. I want to curl up on a pile of pillows and blankets, surrounding myself with words, books and music, which, in my opinion is perfection. It can also make me gloomy. Forcing me to look back on life and ask myself, “What the heck were you thinking Abigail?” Maybe I’m stressed and then it starts raining and I ask, “Really?” It adds one more miserable thing to my momentarily wretched life.

Thunderstorms are wonderful. I am suffused with excitement, but also wonder. Stormy rain wakes me up and my mind expands. Everything becomes interesting. I want to explore, maybe discover a fossil of some unknown creature. I want to shock people like a storm shocks me. In my opinion, storms are incredible because of their ferocity and wild allure. I begin to think and question, “How is everything possible?”

Rain is unique and divine. I love each and every sound it makes. It allows me to experience emotions on all kinds of levels, whether I am in the barn or at home, whether I am happy or sad.



I stand in the middle of a muddy field. It rained yesterday and my boots are already covered ankle deep in wet dirt. I am trudging to my horse. I take a step. The mud swallows my foot and makes an angry sucking sound when I pull my leg up, taking my foot away from its slimy grip. Even though I am filthy, I don’t mind. I’ve always loved a mess. Besides, I get to put my arms around my beautiful beast after I’ve conquered the field.

There is nothing like the bond between me and my horse. His name is Gray, and he is utterly amazing. If you think I’m too muddy, you should see my horse. He likes to roll. His white coat is barely visible. Patches peek out from the caked on remains of a recent dirt bath. His beautiful silver mane has blotches of grime, sticking the hairs together. Clumps of brown grass and twigs are tangled in his tail, which swishes around swatting the flies off his sides and legs.

Have you ever been in the presence of a stubborn kid? Or, maybe you are the stubborn kid. Sometimes children will do something over and over again no matter what you say and it is totally worth it to them. Well my Gray likes to be dirty. Every single time I brush him and work super hard to get all the grossness off his lovely and majestic self, he goes and rolls in the dirtiest part of his field as soon as I let him go. I laugh at it now because he just can’t help it.

My big, stubborn horse is a sweetheart, but sometimes he just refuses to agree with my choices. Silly thing, doesn’t he know that a women is never wrong? (Well, almost never.) Thankfully, we both love the muck. It doesn’t bother us one bit, and, to me, it’s worth the dirt as long as I get to rub my boy down. Then he can go get filthy again.