A day of America, waking to a radio discussion programme on the involvement of Thoreau with his world and then, early this evening, to another programme on the poetic tradition of the American presidential election. In the latter I was thrilled to hear the voice of Robert Frost, clear and strong in the winter sunshine even if he did complain that the sun was in his eyes. I wasn’t there, but I was watching the Kennedy inauguration ‘live’ on TV, and my clearest, most sparkled memory of the event was of some kind soul holding a paper programme over the old man’s head like an inadequate parasol. It may be the sunlight was an excuse and the old poet had already determined not to use the poem he’d written for the occasion but, rather, to speak the lines of an older, better poem. Better for me, now as then, anyway. The Gift Outright is a great poem. Go see.
I wanted to argue every point made in the Thoreau programme. Distance kept me silent, however, and now politeness keeps me so. There has been a Thoreavian element to my silence almost all of my adult life.
So, then, apart from waking from American dreams to the chattering of my bedside radio (Thoreau would not have approved), all under soft, rainy Welsh skies, we went to Swansea a day early to fetch Graham two more rolls of insulation, three polystyrene boards, and a tube of decorator’s caulk. And for provisions, of course.
My, how it rained. Just before we left the house Graham dashed out to the kerb to bring our rubbish bins in. I opened the back door so’s he could come in to wash his hands.
“Listen to that,” I said, referring to the merry rush of water in the gulleys and gutters.
“Listen to what?”
“The rain, the rain. The sound of Wales.”
“Oh.”
“The rain, the rain. The sound of Wales.” Clearly. Graham is a true Welshman.
When Dave and I first married, he listened to ‘white noise’ on the clock radio while he slept. I realized very soon that it had to go, because nothing I can think of makes me happier than coming awake in the middle of the night to the sound of rainfall. Living in the desert as we do, it doesn’t happen often (except during monsoon) so it is a wonderful, living sound to me – it means almost immediate color in the desert and the sound of bullfrogs having dug themselves out of the mud, on the prowl for girlfrogs!
Oh to hear rain! Of course we would have to have some, and I’d have to quit going to sleep with the TV as ‘white noise’.
You are bringing out the desert or warm weather dwellers amongst us. I love the sound of rain, here in the Arizona desert — if only it would happen more often, (outside of our monsoons).
I shall have to vicariously enjoy your rain.
We are starting a drought here. (San Francisco) so the sound of rain would be a real delight.
Last time we had a prolonged drought, little kids didn’t know what to make of it when it finally did rain. It was sadly amusing.
I love the sound of rain, and we don’t get nearly enough of it here in Southern California.
Robert Frost’s poem is indeed beautiful, John.
Thank you for the reminder of it.
We could do with some Welsh rain here in Oklahoma too. The burn ban is back this week, amazing in min-winter. Plenty of freezing temperatures, but no rain or snow.
Now, that brings back a wonderful memory. Long, long ago, we used to spend weekends at my great-grandfather’s ancient 1-room cabin up the river. In those days, you had to walk in because the roads didn’t go that far. There was a loft where we kids slept. There was nothing that sounded better than a summer rain on the shake roof at night. Hand-split shakes, I might add. Maybe that made it sound better. (smile) Thanks, John, for triggering that.
Wales sounds a little ….damp…..overall…..
Ah – the sound of rain on my Grandmothers tin roof as we slept in the attic room above her kitchen. It was the only warm place to be. Directly above the cast iron coal/wood stove.
Ah, lovely! Awakening to the tippity-tappity of rain on a metal roof! I have one on the “add-on” room of my apartment. It’s so nice to hear, such a comforting sound.
Oh beautiful rain of which we have none…..
Oh, did you not like the Thoreau discussion? I thought it was mostly interesting, although I generally want to throttle Melvin Bragg for being quite so stupid and quite so pompous.
Oh, yes! I remember watching Kennedy’s inauguration at school. On a black and white television, of course. And the only part I can remember is Robert Frost trying to read a poem with the bright sunlight shining on his face. Thank you for mentioning that. I guess I’m not the only one it made an impression on.